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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517555">Long Distance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romagirl/pseuds/Romagirl'>Romagirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Andrew Hozier-Byrne (Musician)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dating, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Sexy Times, Travel, Triggers for Assault Chapters 12-14 and 16, Triggers for Sexual Assault, alcohol consumption, real people fiction - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:02:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>76,968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romagirl/pseuds/Romagirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>These are snapshots of a long-distance relationship. It doesn't necessarily follow a specific timeline.</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not know Hozier, I am a fan of his music. I have created an idea of him to use in this fic because I wanted to explore a long distance relationship and all the complications. </p><p>I hope you enjoy it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>294</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was late. Not that you knew the time. It was dark in your apartment with only the city light peaking in through the crack in your drapes. You had stripped down to your underwear and were laying on your couch under a blanket, drinking tea with bourbon and honey (you had a cold and wanted to get drunk, so win-win).</p><p> </p><p>Your phone was on silent but it lit up with a FT call. The blue light filled the room and made everything seem unreal. The call went to voicemail. Then the texts started coming in, one after the other. Shit. You grabbed the phone and started texting.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Can we talk tomorrow? It has been a long day.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Are you ok?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>just tired</em>
</p><p> </p><p>You knew he didn’t believe you. Your Facetimes were carefully scheduled because of the time difference and you never canceled. The majority of your relationship was via text, phone calls and facetime. It was never your intention to be in a long-distance relationship, never mind one with a famous musician. But that’s just what happened.</p><p> </p><p>You were introduced to him by one of his backup singers who happened to be one of your closest friends. You and Rachel had attended college together and had the same voice teacher. She was on the performance track, naturally and you were training to be a music therapist. You bonded in studio class over your extreme stage fright and love of folk music. Rachel was smart and fun. Loyal to a fault, she was the kind of friend everyone should have. When she got the Hozier gig, you were ecstatic. She had made a name for herself in Nashville and had gigged steadily, but an international tour with a headliner meant money. It would provide security for her and every freelance musician needed that.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I feel like you are not telling me something….</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He, as usual, was correct. He had an uncanny ability to read people and was extraordinarily empathetic. It made it difficult to hide your feelings.</p><p> </p><p>You met in Ireland. Rachel was there for a month of rehearsals and general band chemistry- building. She told you to join her for a few days before you went to London for a conference. So, you took some vacations days and headed over. You had never been to Ireland and were dying to go.  When she introduced you, you were smitten.</p><p> </p><p>He was obscenely tall and lanky. All long limbs and hair. He always seemed like he was trying to make himself smaller, less intimidating. But he wasn’t intimidating in the least. He was very soft-spoken, but quick to laugh and make jokes. Sparkling green eyes set in a face that gave away everything. You talked about guitars and he gave you advice about playing bar chords when you asked (they are so hard for you with your small hands). You shared a love of language and poetry; it was why you became a singer even though you had shown tremendous promise on violin. And you bonded over being in choirs where you had to wear bad costumes, as if puberty wasn’t bad enough.</p><p> </p><p>When you left for London, he asked to see you again. You lived in New York, so you would meet up then. As you stood at the back of the crowd in the subway, watching him sing you knew you done for. After that, it was phone calls and texts with long-weekend visits. You were living a typical life during the week and living like a groupie during the weekend. It was so passionate and fun with very little real life in it, you didn’t want to crack the veneer. He had seen you tired, but never like this, so emotionally on the edge…so aggrieved.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Let me in…. please.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It took you a minute to process his request before you hit the button.  When he appeared on your screen, he looked so soft and safe. You were so raw from the day that it took everything you had not to burst into tears at the sight of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. I needed to see you. What can I do?”</p><p> </p><p>His kindness moved you and you could feel the tenuous hold on your emotions slipping. “we lost a patient today…to suicide.”</p><p> </p><p>His brows furrowed together and he let out a deep breath. “Oh honey.”</p><p> </p><p>"A Marine. He was remarkable. Survived an IED. He had been doing so well, I….I don’t what happened. The whole team is just stunned.”</p><p> </p><p>“God. How old?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just 30.”</p><p> </p><p>This was part of the job and you knew that. All through school and your internship they tell you about all of the possibilities. You will lose patients and you have to be able to deal with it. Connect with them, but keep a sliver of emotional distance so that you remain professional. It sounded so logical at the time.</p><p> </p><p>Then he said, “I am so sorry for your loss….”</p><p> </p><p> <strong><em>Your loss</em></strong>.</p><p> </p><p>That was all it took. All of the grief and anger came pouring out of you in waves. You sobbed for your patient, for your team and all the brave veterans you worked with every day. And you cried for yourself, for the brother you lost to war and your mother who died too young.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh honey. It’s ok. Let it out. Let it all out.  It’s ok. It’s ok. He kept repeating it and then he whispered to you in <em>Irish</em>. You had no idea what he was saying, but the lilting words were so soothing.</p><p> </p><p>You had no idea how long you cried. When you were done, you even more exhausted than before. When looked at your phone, he was leaning into the screen of his laptop, watching you with unshed tears in his eyes. You knew he was nervous by the way he has rubbing his palms.</p><p> </p><p>“I wish I was there to hold you.”</p><p> </p><p>You nodded in response. Trying to pull yourself together.</p><p> </p><p>The two of you sat in companionable silence for a while. Then he spoke, “Honey, promise me something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Never be afraid to tell me what’s going on with you. I want to know. I want to be there for you…as much as I can.”</p><p> </p><p>You promised.</p><p> </p><p>The next day you woke up on the couch, still wrapped in your blanket. You could feel the mascara smeared all over your face. Not so fun and flirty anymore, you thought to yourself.</p><p> </p><p>A delivery came that afternoon. Flowers from your favorite shop. Peonies and English roses, your favorites. The note said:</p><p> </p><p>Remember, I am here for all of it. Love, Andrew</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. New York, New York!!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>NYC is an amazing city to live and work in. It truly is the city that never sleeps. Whatever food you are looking to eat, whatever activity you want to try, NYC has it. The downside is it is extraordinarily expensive. Real estate, especially, is pricey. Fortunately, your Dad had an old friend who was looking for a renter. The apartment wasn’t big, but it was a one-bedroom in a nice neighborhood. It had an elevator that worked some of the time and was close to a subway stop.  It was perfect for 5’3” you. Your boyfriend was another story.</p><p> </p><p>He was staying with you for several weeks and it was heaven. At the moment, he was commandeering the bedroom and you had the living room. Your queen-sized bed was covered in notes, notebooks, a guitar, a mini keyboard, a laptop and one 6’6” Irish lad who was struggling with writer’s block. Even without all the stuff on the bed, he barely fit.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, how is it going?” you asked tentatively. He looked at you like you were an alien. Clearly, you had interrupted his train of thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Em…not good. I am stuck. Like really stuck. Frozen… Are you sure that I am a songwriter?” he smiled at you then.</p><p> </p><p>“Positive,” you replied. You slid your hand into his hair and scratched his scalp gently.  He leaned into you like an obedient puppy and hummed his approval.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t we go for a walk? We can pick up something at Angelina Bakery…maybe one of those Nutella croissants?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at you then as if you held the answers to all of his problems. “Yes, yes. That would be grand.”</p><p> </p><p>You strolled through the city and took it all in. It was one of the first real cold days. Autumn had just peaked with all of it glorious colors and warmth. The march towards the barren cold days of winter was on. You held onto his arm as you walked, so glad to be together in one place.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was in multiple layers as usual. His wild mass of curls was stuffed into a knit hat and a large scarf was wrapped around his neck. He was always cold which wasn’t surprising. He had no body fat to speak of and lacked your New Englander blood.  You turned a corner and were met by a harsh wind. That was the thing with cities, the tall buildings could insulate you or channel the wind making it dangerous. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you tight to him. He smelled like clean laundry and the cologne you gave him. This is what you missed when he was gone on the road. Yes, the sex was amazing and you loved it. But it really was the little things that you loved the most.</p><p> </p><p>Like watching Jeopardy together at night, competing for the most answers. Walking through city, hand in hand, window-shopping. Going to clubs to hear music. Lying in bed, in the dark and talking about everything. Playing duets on your guitars and singing in harmony.  Talking about your day over take-out. The list goes on.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” His voice startled you out of your reverie.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” He repeated it, voice soft and low. You had arrived at the bakery.</p><p> </p><p>“You,” you replied. “And me. Just…thinking about how nice it is to be together in one spot. Living life.” You suddenly felt like crying and had no idea why, so you ducked your head. He cupped your face with one of his large hands, lifted it up and rubbed your lips with his thumb.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too.” It was barely a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>You slipped into the bakery. The smell of coffee and sugar enveloped you. Behind the glass was a wide selection of pastries. They were lined up like soldiers and glistened under the lights.</p><p> </p><p>He whispered into your ear, “the usual?” You shook your head yes in answer.</p><p> </p><p>You made your way back towards your apartment, coffees in hand and croissants in the bag. As you passed a small, park he gestured with his hand and you went in. The two of you found an empty bench and sat down.</p><p> </p><p>“Want to split one of these now?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p> </p><p>He carefully handed you your piece. It was so good. Flakey, buttery with loads of Nutella inside. Heaven.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at you then and smiled. “It <em>is</em> nice to be in one spot for a change. I haven’t driven you crazy yet?” He licked Nutella off his thumb.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“What? No, of course not. Besides you make such good coffee and serve it to me in bed…I’ll never let you go.” You laughed, but inside you were nervous. Where was he going with this?</p><p> </p><p>He peered over his coffee at you, smiling.  There was a couple across the little park. They were laughing at something on their phone. Probably some YouTube video. You watched for a little bit, trying to guess if they were college students or tourists.</p><p> </p><p>“Em…” He started speaking, but stopped and let out a breath. You sipped your coffee and waited. You knew he was trying to formulate something.</p><p> </p><p>“What if…em…what if we try to do this? You know, living in one spot?”</p><p> </p><p>You turned towards him. “Here in NY or Ireland?”</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows shot up. “Em, here, maybe Ireland sometimes. God, I hadn’t really thought it through to be honest.” He smiled at you, sheepishly.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ok.” You had thought about it. The nice parts that is, but the logistics made your head spin so you usually let it go. “Maybe here to start? My job is here and I don’t have an EU license.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, yeah. Well, I can write anywhere and my visa is good for a while. I can do the travelling for a change.” He paused and looked directly in your eyes. “I want to be here with you, no doubt.”</p><p> </p><p>You were ecstatic. There was nothing to say, so you kissed him. “Let’s go, I’ll make Carbonara for dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>“Excellent. And pastry and Jameson for dessert.” He shook the bag for emphasis.</p><p> </p><p>You felt like you could fly back to the apartment. The cold of winter was coming, but you had a new way to stay warm.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Late Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the middle of the night. The windows were open to let the air into the apartment. It was the end of May and the nights were delicious and cool. The city was relatively quiet, but every now and then a group of people would walk by, their voices carried up to you, but too muffled to make out any words.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was sprawled across the bed fast asleep. He didn’t fit the queen size mattress so parts of him were dangling off the edge. A foot there, a leg there, but his arm was wrapped around your waist using you as an anchor. The two of you talked about buying a larger bed. So you measured the room only to realize it would never fit. You would have to get a bigger apartment and that was a whole other conversation. For now your tired giant made do. It never seemed to affect his sleep. After living on tour buses and hotels, he could sleep standing up.</p><p> </p><p>A police siren wailed as it drove by making your stomach flip. You hadn’t been able to sleep the last few nights. Just a few hours here and there.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was nothing more than a rumble.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you were asleep”</p><p> </p><p>“I was.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did I wake you? I’m sorry…”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it was the sirens.”  He moved his arm from you and rolled onto his back, scrubbing his face with his hands. “You haven’t slept much this week.” Then he slid his hand over yours and squeezed. “Is this about your brother?”</p><p> </p><p>Next week is the anniversary of your brother’s death. He was the oldest child, first-born son and the bright light in your family. He attended military academy and graduated top of his class. Shortly after graduation, he left for duty. In his first tour in Afghanistan, he stepped on an IED and was killed.</p><p> </p><p>You sat up and turned towards Andrew, placing your hand on his chest. You could feel his heart beat under your fingers. “You remembered. Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” He took your hand and kissed it. “I can’t even begin to….em…if something happened to my brother, I don’t know what I would do.” He started rubbing circles on your palm with his thumb.</p><p> </p><p>You nodded your head in agreement.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you do something special?”</p><p> </p><p>Usually, you and your surviving brother, Sam, went to cemetery together. Will was buried at the National Cemetery in Washington, D.C. The ritual started a few years back. It was always just the two of you. Your Mom died of cancer a couple years after Will; she was never the same after his death. Your father would only go alone. He was very private with his emotions.</p><p> </p><p>“No, well, I usually do, but Sam is away for work. I am not sure what I want to do.” Death is part of life and you were well acquainted with it. The death of a young person is so awful and so strange. You constantly wonder what it would be like with that person still alive. Would he have married? Would he be happy that you worked with Veterans? Would your Mom have beat the cancer?</p><p> </p><p>You had been singing and performing your whole life. One thing you learned is that every performance space has an acoustical dead spot. An area where the sound just lands and dies. There was some technical reason for it, but you couldn’t remember. That’s what Will’s death felt like to you…an acoustical dead spot in your life.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew sat up and leaned against the headboard. He pulled you into his lap and wrapped himself around you. “I could go with you, to the cemetery. We could take the train down.” He spoke into your hair. The vibrations from his chest rolled through you. You turned you face towards his and kissed him.</p><p> </p><p>“That would be so nice. You truly are amazing. Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Amazing? Not really, it is just…the thing to do.” He laughed a little. “You would do the same.”</p><p> </p><p>He ran his fingers rhythmically up and down your back. The metronome of his heart and the movement of his chest lulled you to sleep. You had never slept so well.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Guitar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>If you are still reading the fic...thank you!!! Let me know if I should keep going.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I don’t why you can’t let her go. Move on to something new.”</p><p> </p><p>“Move on? Wow. That’s harsh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, it’s time.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s easy for you to say. You have so many other… choices, I just have her. I’m sentimental and <em>loyal</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Loyal?” He raised his eyebrow at this. “You are making me sound a little…” He was searching for a word. You supplied it.</p><p> </p><p>“Slutty. You are guitar slutty. Seriously, how many do you need?” You teased.</p><p> </p><p>You were Face Timing with Andrew. He was back in Ireland for six weeks and you were home in New York getting ready for a conference in California.</p><p> </p><p>“Slutty?” He was doing that thing with his tongue in his cheek. “Em….em….I <em>need</em> a variety of guitars. They all have different purposes….This is silly. Just use my Takamine.” He was wearing a blue shirt that you had been using as a nightshirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Nice shirt by the way!!”</p><p> </p><p>“You like it? I got it out of my girlfriend’s closet.” He laughed freely. His curls haloed his head and he was wearing the tortoise-shell glasses you loved so much. He lowered his voice, “I had to take it back. It smells like you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh ok.” You could feel yourself blushing. “Thank you but the Takamine is too expensive to take cross-country. What if it gets damaged?”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled at this, “You can make it up to me in trade.” He started sipping out of his mug. It had three teabags in it. You could tell from the tags.</p><p> </p><p>“Ha, ha. Truthfully, it really doesn’t fit my hands. I can’t barre chords on it.” You held up your hands as proof. As if he didn’t intimately know how small they really are.</p><p> </p><p>“Em…I see your point. You do need something a little smaller.”</p><p> </p><p>You have been playing the same guitar since 8<sup>th</sup> grade. It was a mid-level Yamaha. Not the cheapest guitar, certainly not the best, but it had gotten you through a lot. Letting go of her was difficult. As you were packing for your conference you noticed a crack starting to form in the rosewood of the fingerboard. Andrew’s Takamine was gorgeous, but far too big for you.</p><p> </p><p>“So what are you going to do?” Although he liked teasing you, Andrew understood the attachment you can develop with your instrument. He treated his like babies.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think the crack can be fixed?” You gritted your teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, that guitar has a lot of issues. You really need a better one and you deserve something special. When do you leave again? What day is it anyway?” He looked confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, how long have you been in that studio? Have you eaten or slept?” He was back in Ireland to see his family, take care of a few things and work on the next record.</p><p> </p><p>He let out a long sigh. “Em, I have eaten and slept a little. I am pretty knackered…I miss you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too.” He looked so tired and sweet. All you wanted to do is reach through the screen and smooth furrow between his brows.</p><p>.</p><p>He suddenly remembered your itinerary.  “You fly out tomorrow night? Correct?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, good memory.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know about that.” His smile made his eyes and nose crinkle up. “Do me a favor then? Go down to Rudy’s and pick out a guitar. Maybe two? A traveler and a full-size. They will take great care of you. And put it on my account.”</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, that is so sweet, but I can’t…” Just then you heard voices and realized his team was coming back. You could hear the distinct, rich bass of Alex’s voice in particular.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry. I have to go. Talk later?” He put his hand over his heart and winked.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The rest of the day was spent cleaning the apartment, packing and texting with some old colleagues who would be at the conference. One of them offered to lend you a guitar. She lived near the site and would bring it with her.  You were grateful for the help.</p><p> </p><p>You had never lived with a boyfriend before. All through college and grad school you had roommates, but they were just friends. When Andrew moved in you agreed on splitting the rent, utilities and food. He paid for date night which he insisted on. When he was on tour, he paid for all your travel expenses.</p><p> </p><p>You were not a couple that was into big gifts. You preferred to spend money on concerts, museums and experiences. You really didn’t need anything and your apartment was too small to store too much. All you wanted was time with each other.  He had been trying to get you a new guitar for a couple of months now. You kept refusing, but now you had no choice.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A friend came over for dinner and the two of you ate takeout and polished off two bottles of wine. After she left, you showered and slipped into one Andrew’s shirts.  You laid down in the middle of the bed and willed yourself to sleep. The truth of the matter was you hadn’t been sleeping well at all. You missed him.  It was easy during the day to ignore it.  Now you were in bed and all you can think about is how empty it is and how lonely you are.</p><p> </p><p>The phone started buzzing and the screen lit up. You kept trying to answer the call, but the wine made you slow and uncoordinated. You slid it open and promptly dropped it.</p><p> </p><p>“Crap. Sorry….sorry!!! I dropped the phone.” You practically fell off the bed reaching for it.  “Hi”</p><p> </p><p>“I woke you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not really.”</p><p> </p><p>“The time got away from me, but we got a lot accomplished. How are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. I’m good. Lauren came over and we had Thai and too much wine. It was nice to catch up. How is it going? How is everybody?”</p><p> </p><p>His voice was low and scratchy. He must have been singing all day. “The recording session went really well. I feel a lot better getting these demo’s down. Tomorrow I am going to spend the day with my parents and Jon. We are going to hang out and eat Mom’s cooking. Oh, Alex says hi by the way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like it will be the perfect day with your family. Give them my love.” You had met Andrew’s family twice. The first time was when you went to Ireland to see Rachel. There was a big dinner party for the Hozier team You met them there and loved them immediately. They were all smart, compassionate and warm. His Mom was especially lovely and you could see the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.</p><p> </p><p>“I will. Are you ready for your conference? Did you go to Rudy’s?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I am all packed and ready. I didn’t go to Rudy’s; an old colleague of mine is going to lend me a guitar.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.” He paused then and you knew he was thinking of just the right thing to say. Andrew was always very thoughtful and measured. He chose his words carefully, never wanting to be misunderstood or to cause any harm. “Honey, I know you love that guitar mostly because your Mom and Dad got it for you. I know it’s hard to let go of it and her.”</p><p> </p><p>True to form, he understood completely. You just nodded your head as if he could see you.</p><p> </p><p>“I still have my first guitar. It’s a wreck! The pick guard fell off, it has crack in the body and is no longer playable. But I kept it. And we can keep yours too.”</p><p> </p><p>You were sitting up in bed now; hanging on to his every word.  “I didn’t realize you were so sentimental.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am sentimental about certain things.”</p><p> </p><p>It took a minute to pull yourself together. “Thank you, Andrew. Thank you for understanding and for not making me feel foolish.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. Besides you never saw my Rig Rundown video where I apologized to my guitar for bumping it on the case.” He laughed quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my goodness. That is so you. Remind me to watch that!”</p><p> </p><p>“I will not!!”</p><p> </p><p>You chatted some more before ending the call. As you lay there in the dark, you thought about how wonderful it is to be so understood. It made the lonely nights worth suffering through.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Netflix and Chill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for the kind words and kudos. I really appreciate it! Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Here is a fresh ice pack.” Andrew took the old ice pack from your knee and carefully placed the new one. You were sprawled out across the couch, left leg propped up on a pillow, knee battered and bruised.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you…ouch!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry!” he was smirking.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t smirk.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you are. It’s not funny.” You were pouting.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not the only one with an injury you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Injury? Andrew, I really don’t think a hickey counts as an injury.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well it really stings” He started rubbing the spot on his collarbone where you left your mark.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re one of <em>those</em> guys?” He gave you a quizzical look. “The kind that gets a head cold and needs to be hospitalized.” You lifted the ice pack to assess your knee. The swelling was going down, but the bruising was awful.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was in town for a few days and you were thrilled. Unfortunately, your attempt at the sexual Olympics was an epic fail. It started out great until you changed venues. The shower turned out to be your figurative and literal downfall.</p><p> </p><p>“Here. Salve for your wounds.” He handed you a bowl of gelato and placed a glass of Irish whiskey on the table within arm’s reach.</p><p> </p><p>“And no. I am not one of those guys.” He kissed the top of your head before going back to the kitchen for his drink and gelato.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you aren’t.” You smiled at him. “But I am a little disappointed in us. We went down in flames. I thought we would go a little farther in the…decathlon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Totally!! It’s the height difference. It makes everything more complicated. Here…allow me.” He slid in under your leg and gently placed it on his lap. No whiskey spilled. “I am afraid you need a shorter boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or you need a taller girlfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah. I like my girlfriend. I’m keeping her.” He winked at you and tipped his glass. “Sláinte.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sláinte. Good. She refuses to leave. I think she is a bit of a stalker…Hazelnut?” You offered your bowl to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” He took a spoonful out of your bowl and ate it. “I have security for stalkers. Em…what are we watching? Ozark or a movie?” He arched his brow.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe a movie? I like Ozark, but I spend too much time worrying about the kids. Who on earth is taking care of them? They are beyond free-range at this point. Seriously, they need family therapy.” You were enjoying your gelato when you realized he was staring at you. “What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing is wrong. I am just glad to be here. With you.” He smiled so sweetly at you then.</p><p> </p><p>“Bruises and all?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bruises and all.” He was looking for the remote. “Don’t get me wrong, the sexual Olympics are fun, but I really love this. <em>This</em> is what I have been looking for.” He wrapped his hand around your foot and squeezed it.</p><p> </p><p>You watched him for moment. His curls were tied up with your scrunchy and he was wearing his Mavis Staples t-shirt. You could do this forever, you thought to yourself....“Ok. You can put Ozark on.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Food. Whiskey. Guitars.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>It was a gorgeous sunny day in the city. You and Andrew had gone for a leisurely brunch where you ate, read the papers and did the crossword puzzle together. Caffeinated and energized, you were stocking up on supplies for dinner. First stop was a little Italian grocery followed by your favorite wine shop.</p><p> </p><p>“I need to make a stop at Rudy’s today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Supplies or guitars?” you replied.</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely supplies…em….possibly guitars?” His speaking voice got very high.</p><p> </p><p>You gave him a look and laughed. “Ok. Jameson? Or Writer’s Tears?” You held up both bottles for his inspection.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never heard of this whiskey.” He took the bottle of Writer’s Tears and read from the label, “notes of honey on toast, vanilla and caramel. Long sweet finish.” He eyed you then. “This one definitely.” He put it in the basket.</p><p> </p><p>“We need wine. Red.” You headed for the correct aisle.  </p><p> </p><p>“Honey…can we talk….about Christmas?” He was nervous.</p><p> </p><p>You held on to his arm and squeezed, “Of course. What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was hoping that you would join me and my family in Ireland for the holidays.”</p><p> </p><p>Your heart did a little flip. “Yes. I would love it. Thank you for asking me.” You gave him a quick peck. He smiled his megawatt smile. “ Did you think I would say no?”</p><p> </p><p>“Em. Maybe? I mean, I know you like to be with your Dad for the holidays. Do you think he would mind if I stole you away?” For someone so progressive and enlightened he could be incredibly old fashioned. Especially when it came to parents.</p><p> </p><p>“He likes his daughter to be happy. Don’t worry.” You found the wine you were looking for, a Montepulciano d’Abruzzo and grabbed two bottles. “Maybe we can spend Thanksgiving with my family?”</p><p> </p><p>“Totally, totally. Do you think they would want to come here?” He got into the line to pay.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Gosh. Where on earth would we put them?” You laughed thinking of all of you crammed into your apartment. “I’ll talk to Dad and Sam. We will figure something out.”</p><p> </p><p>After finishing up at the wine shop, you headed over to Rudy’s. It was a great little shop with an incredibly knowledgeable staff and a well-deserved cult following. It wasn’t so much a store, as much as a shrine to guitars. Andrew had sent you there to get a small travel guitar when yours cracked. The staff helped you pick out Taylor mini-gs. It was the perfect size for you and sounded gorgeous. Because of its smaller size, it made travel on the subway a little bit easier.  Your old beloved guitar now hangs on the wall in your living room as a beautiful piece of art.</p><p> </p><p>As you walked in the door, the delicate scent of the different woods washed over you. Electric and acoustic guitars lined the walls and were displayed under lights in glass cabinets like pieces of sculpture. Andrew was in his glory. He took two long strides over to a case filled with vintage electric guitars. You suddenly pictured him as a child in a candy store, nose pressed against the glass.</p><p> </p><p>One of the salesmen walked over to Andrew. “Good to see you again and so soon!” They shook hands. Clearly, he had been spending more time here than you thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Grand to be back.” Andrew gestured towards you. “This is my girlfriend.” You walked over then and introduced yourself. The salesman turned to Andrew and winked. “I’ll be right back.” And then he went in the back.</p><p> </p><p>You started looking at the guitars in the case. “I think you should try out that Les Paul reissue.” You wondered what it would sound like under his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe.” He smiled at you. “Is that what you want to hear?” He was full of nervous energy.</p><p> </p><p>Just then the salesmen returned with a case. “Ok, here it is. Why don’t we go over here and you can try it out?” He was talking to you.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. No. The guitar is for him.” You pointed to Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, the guitar is for you. Please, sit here.” Andrew guided you towards a chair. The salesman opened the hard case and took out the guitar. He carefully handed it to you.</p><p> </p><p>It was gorgeous. If you could have designed your dream guitar, this would be it. It was a Taylor custom acoustic made of mahogany.  The fretboard, headstock and pickguard all had a floral design in mother-of-pearl. The binding was mother of pearl. It was a smaller size to fit you perfectly and on the back of the guitar your initials were inlaid in a calligraphy font.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew knelt next to you. “I had it made for you. So, if there is anything you don’t like we can change it.”</p><p> </p><p>You were absolutely dumbstruck. “I…I don’t what to say….thank you, of course…but…wow!” You started playing, it felt like silk under your hands and sounded like well-aged whiskey.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>His whole face lit up as you strummed through a series of chords and started playing the intro to Blackbird. “But baby, it’s not even Christmas or my birthday…”</p><p> </p><p>He gently interrupted you. “I wanted you to have two guitars. You can leave the mini at work and keep this at home. This way you don’t have to hassle with a guitar on the subway. And…I wanted you to have something special from me.” His eyes were so impossibly green.</p><p> </p><p>You kissed him. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>The salesman cleared his throat to get your attention. He handed him an acoustic guitar. “I thought you might want to play some duets.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you! I do.” Andrew was thrilled.</p><p> </p><p>The two of you sat for a good 30 minutes playing. A few people had gathered around you to listen. Then you started playing <em>In the Gloaming</em> and started singing in harmony. It was magical. When you finished, applause broke out in the store. The salesman packed up your guitar for you along with some things Andrew needed like strings and a new capo (he lost his somewhere). Fans in the store were chatting with Andrew and getting autographs. He talked to every single person and hugged them, always the gentleman.</p><p> </p><p>Outside you grabbed a cab. Between the bags of food and the guitar stuff, you were loaded down. Riding in the back of the car, you kissed Andrew over and over.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know how to thank you!!!”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “Oh, I have several ideas. Don’t you worry.”</p><p> </p><p>It was going to be a fun night.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Question</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More frothy fun. Enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was three days before Christmas and you were running errands around Dublin. You had a few last-minute gifts to buy and Andrew was in charge of the whiskey selections for dinner.</p><p> </p><p>“So, what do we have left on the list?” Andrew was carrying the bags and carefully negotiating the pedestrian traffic.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we got everything on my list. I think we just need to get the whiskey. Oh, and wine.” You were going to make Christmas dinner for Andrew’s family. Your Mom was a first generation Italian-American and she taught you how to cook and carry on the family traditions. Christmas was a big deal and you were excited to do this for him. “Oh, I put an order in at that Italian market you mentioned. Will you be able to pick it for me in morning?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. I can’t wait to eat all of this yummy food.” He smacked his lips together and winked at you. His nose and cheeks were rosy from the cold, but it did little to dampen his spirits.</p><p> </p><p>Dublin was magical at this time of year. The city was bustling with people and everyone was in good cheer. The stores and streets were decorated and lights were strung everywhere. Groups of musicians were singing carols or busking on every street corner. You heard a couple of Andrew’s songs being played earlier in the day.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, do you want to put those in the car before we go to the whiskey shop?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s a grand idea. I’ll run this stuff over. Why don’t you get a head start?” He slipped in between two cars and was gone. Luckily you snagged a great spot earlier.</p><p> </p><p>You slowly made your way over. The window displays in the shops were beautifully done and you found yourself  stopping along the way. There was a little store that had a display of mechanized music boxes and toys. It seemed like it was from another time.</p><p> </p><p>“See something you want?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and peered in the window with you. “How charming!”</p><p> </p><p>You wrapped your arms around his waist. “I have everything I want right here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I don’t!!! I need some whiskey!!” You pinched his side and he jumped. “Ouch. Ok. Come one.”</p><p> </p><p>The two of you slipped into your favorite liquor store in the city. It wasn’t big but it had an incredible selection of whiskeys. It was crowded with people shopping and tasting. Andrew grabbed your hand and guided you through the crowd. A salesperson came up to you.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew!! How are you? What can help you with?” You weren’t sure if he actually knew him or just recognized him.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m grand, thanks. Em, we are hosting the holiday and we need a selection of whiskeys and wine.” He turned to you then and you pulled out your list.</p><p> </p><p>“We can definitely help you that.” The sales guy was named Conor and he was a whiskey savant. He took you over to a small counter and started showing you different bottles. He explained the location of the distilleries, their process and the flavor profiles of each one. It was fun listening to him with his incredible enthusiasm and Irish lilt. Andrew chose several bottles for dinner and a couple for his brother. You had a very specific list for him of the wines you wanted and the quantity. In your family, you were the food guru, but your brother was the oenophile. He made a list of wines for you that would pair best with your menu.</p><p> </p><p>Conor looked over the list and nodded approvingly. “I will put this together for you. Why don’t you try a few whiskeys and then meet me over at the register?”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you Conor, we will.” Andrew was always happy to have some whiskey.</p><p> </p><p>“This looks interesting,” you directed him to a little table where an older lady was pouring  small tastings.</p><p> </p><p>“Nollaig shona duit!” She handed you a couple of little plastic cups. “Bua Irish Whiskey, small batch. Enjoy”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you! Nollaig shona duit.” Andrew replied. You clinked glasses and sipped.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm, this reminds of American bourbon. Lots of caramel and a little smoke at the end…” You were pondering the taste when Andrew broke out laughing. “Why are you laughing at me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not at you. I just can’t believe that you are the same person that had never even had whiskey when we first met! I am just…pleased.” He blushed a little.</p><p> </p><p>You took his chin in your hand. His beard was long and bristly. “Let’s get our stuff and get out of here.”</p><p> </p><p>Errands finished and supplies secured; you made your way back to Andrew’s home. He lived outside of Dublin in the country, near the sea. It reminded you where you grew up, in a sleepy New England college town nestled between the mountains and the ocean. Your father was still a college professor there.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Em, do you want get some coffee and go down to the beach before we head home?” You were at an intersection and Andrew was gesturing to the driver to go ahead. “I think this poor lad is lost.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe he is just an American confused by driving on the wrong side of the road.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. It’s like that is it?” He was laughing. The other car finally passed. “You are going to have to learn how to drive on the <em>correct</em> side of the road if you want to be Irish.” He pulled the car into parking lot of a little café. “The usual?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please.” You handed him your travel mug. “Thank you.” He went into the shop and you sat there thinking about what he said. <em>If you want to be Irish.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>You arrived in Ireland four days ago and it had been a whirlwind of activity ever since. There were visits with friends and family, planning for the holiday and just playing catch up with each other. Christmas eve there was a dinner with friends and the annual busking in the city for charity. Andrew had been here for three weeks already. You were trying adjust to the time change and your jet lag.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey. Honey?” He was back in the car trying to hand you your mug. “Are you ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, sorry! Just thinking about the menu. <em>Liar</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Andrew was steering with one hand and holding his cup with other. He sang along to the Christmas carols on the radio. “Em, are you going to be warm enough at the beach?” He eyed your outfit. Andrew was always cold except at night in bed. He radiated so much heat then that you found yourself sweating next to him. You, however, were always warm. You had a pretty fast metabolism, more body fat than him and grew up in a part of the world where the temperature hovered around freezing for a good chunk of the year.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, I told you. I am fine.” He was wearing several layers of clothes, plus a coat, knit hat and a large fuzzy scarf. You were in jeans, a long-sleeve t-shirt, scarf and your light down jacket. “It’s only….you looked at the temperature gauge in the car and did the conversion to Fahrenheit. “Baby it’s 50 degrees. Not cold for me.” You smiled. “Thank you for worrying though.” You reached across and rubbed his arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>You pulled into the lot by the beach. It was a clear day. The sea was shades of grey and blue and the tide was coming in. He grabbed a couple of blankets out of the back.</p><p> </p><p>“I love it like this.” You spread your arms and took in a big breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Cold?” He quirked his eyebrow at you.</p><p> </p><p>“Empty. Back home the beaches are always so crowded in the warm weather. I like having the beach to myself. To walk and think.” You helped him spread out the blanket on the rocks.</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed.” </p><p> </p><p>The two of you huddled up on the rock and drank your coffee. He pulled the other blanket over you and slid his arm around you. It was perfection. The sound of waves filled your ears and the wind played havoc with your hair, but you loved it. Gulls were swooping above and calling out to each other. Out on the horizon, you could make out a ship and you wondered where it was going.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew put his cup down and started rubbing the palm of hand. “Em….I need to talk to about something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.” You put your hand on his thigh and squeezed to reassure him. He got so nervous sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>He let out a breath. “I don’t want to spoil Christmas.”</p><p> </p><p>You turned and looked in his eyes. “Andrew, just talk to me. We can figure it out.”</p><p> </p><p>He smoothed your hair behind your ear. “Em. I love you” Your heart, as always, did a little flip. “And having you here in Ireland, with my family and in my home……it’s…better than I ever could imagine. And selfishly, I would love for us to be here full-time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you feel like that is selfish of you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Em….well, your career is in New York and your family is back in the States…I know how hard you have worked to get where you are. I couldn’t ask you to give it up.”</p><p> </p><p>You took hold of his hand and examined it. His fingers were so long and pale. The very tips of his fingers were calloused from playing. “You seem much happier here. Are you?”</p><p> </p><p>He took a minute. You know he was carefully choosing his next words. “I love New York, but I don’t think that I can live there all the time. Being home made me realize how much I need space and quiet to do my work.” He couldn’t quite look at you then. This was a long-needed and much-avoided conversation between the two of you. It was time to you figured it out.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, I love you too. And I love how thoughtful you are and how you always honor what I do and understand how important it is to me.” You kissed him.</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly, I think your job is far more important than mine.” He was serious.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, I think we are doing very similar things just in different ways. Your music reaches people and helps them. And you use your platform for so many good causes. You’re incredible.” You looked out at the sea. The clouds were starting to roll in and turn the sky grey. The wind was picking up.</p><p> </p><p>You sat in silence for a while turning things over in your mind. Andrew picked at his fingers out of nervousness.</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t have to give up being a music therapist, but I would have to get certified and licensed here. It would be a bit like starting over, but it could be exciting? My family and friends?...I would have to figure that part out.” Your heart was pounding and you couldn’t look at him. It was a big deal and very scary for you. You took the leap anyway.</p><p> </p><p>He looked like he could be knocked over with a feather. “So, you would move here, to Ireland, with me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes I would, but only if it’s forever.”</p><p> </p><p>He was smiling and his eyes were watering up. “Well, then. It seems I need to have a talk with your father.”</p><p> </p><p>You laughed. “You’re so old fashioned!!!”</p><p> </p><p>He kissed you for a while.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we better go. There is pasta to make and cookies to bake!!!” You got up from your spot and held out your hand. He took it.</p><p> </p><p>He looked up at then. “Yes, let’s go <em>home</em>.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Forgiveness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It’s me. I am going to see Hamilton tonight!!!!!!!!!!!! So will need to talk later. Maybe after the show? Ok?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>A: That’s great. Enjoy.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Your good friend and co-worker, Matt, had two tickets to Hamilton. The tickets were for a date night, but there was a drama and a breakup. So, you were now the lucky recipient of the ticket.   They were impossible to get and expensive when you could. When Matt asked you to be his date, you were thrilled.</p><p> </p><p>The show was everything you had hoped it would be and more. Everything was perfect; the music, the choreography, the story, the sets, the costumes…everything. You and Matt drank the champagne and ate the chocolates that were ordered for the date. Afterwards, you met up with some friends at a bar and discussed everything about the show. You almost closed the place. It was a perfect evening. Unfortunately, you had to miss your call with Andrew. You texted him from the cab going to the bar and explained. He seemed fine with it.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily the next day was Sunday. You got to sleep in extra which was nice. You sang Hamilton in the shower and on the way to the bakery and back home from the bakery. You sang Hamilton as you made coffee and put your baked goods on a plate. And you sang Hamilton when you answered a FT from Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m looking for a mind at work, work!”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled at you. “You’re in a good mood. I take it you liked the show.”</p><p> </p><p>“Loved. Loved the show. Truly the best show I have seen in years. It is like a modern operetta. With rap instead of recitative.” Andrew nodded and smiled. “How are you? How was your show?”</p><p> </p><p>He took a deep breath. “Em, we had a few technical issues and someone in the audience collapsed. The heat was unbearable.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Oh, my goodness, are they ok? Are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“The woman had to go to the hospital, but she is ok. The band is fine.” He scrubbed at face with hands. He looked truly worn out and awfully thin.</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, are you eating enough?” You hated asking, but he dropped weight quickly when he was stressed.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying.”</p><p> </p><p>This tour was a grueling one. The schedule was intense with little time off. Travel was by plane or on a bus where they lived and slept. It was exciting, but you had to have stamina. It was the ¾ mark in the tour and it was taking a toll on everyone. Andrew was especially worn out. He was doing press in between shows, working on a new podcast and trying to write music.</p><p> </p><p>“Em…do you think you could come out for a few days?” Andrew had his head cradled in his hands, elbows on his knees. He wasn’t even looking at you.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh baby, I don’t have any more time off. I’ve used it all up.” You know he hated asking for things and it crushed you to have to say no.</p><p> </p><p>He frowned a bit. “Maybe it’s for the best. It’s probably not so fun for you when you do visit.” He was aggressively rubbing at his temples.</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t say that.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you never have my complete attention. There are always so many other things I have to attend to.” He looked grim.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, baby. I understand what your job is. It is not a 9 to 5 gig. And for the record, I treasure every moment we have together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well it sounds like New York is better for you. You seem to be having a lot of fun with Matt.” He was speaking louder than normal.</p><p> </p><p>Things were taking a bad turn. “Matt is a fun friend, but I’d rather be with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Well I am not much fun now. Maybe you should find someone who can be with you.”</p><p> </p><p>He was never like this and you were concerned. “What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wrong? What’s wrong?  So much is wrong…” he stopped talking then. He was rubbing his eyes and his collarbone. All of his nervous ticks were on display.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew… I want to help you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t help me and I can’t take you to Hamilton! I need you here and that’s not happening. Christ…Maybe this was a bad idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bad idea?” You stomach felt like lead.</p><p> </p><p>“This. Us…we are always apart. I am too busy for a relationship and you have Matt.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. Let’s leave Matt out this. Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?</p><p> </p><p>“Fight? I am not trying to do anything. Just stating my observation.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your observation? That I have fun with Matt? I do. Is that <em>really </em>the problem?” You kept your voice calm and low.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Maybe.” He was silent for a moment. You could see his anger was building. “Maybe I feel like you don’t miss me as much as you say you do. Maybe you already have someone else...”</p><p> </p><p>You were starting to lose your cool. “How can you say that?” He wouldn’t look at you at this point. “Seriously, you’re a rock star with fans waiting for you by the bus every night and you’re worried about what I am up to?”</p><p> </p><p>“Now who is being ridiculous? I meet the fans and say hi. They are so kind, but that is it. Besides, Rachel would have told you, I’m sure.” He was definitely angry now.</p><p> </p><p>“For the record, Rachel and I do not discuss you. You are her boss and road family. We made a pact to keep you out of things and you know that. So, don’t do that. Secondly, I trust that you are not sleeping with fans because I trust you. You’re supposed to do the same.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t say a thing and he couldn’t look you in the eye.</p><p> </p><p>Your throat was constricting and your eyes were welling up. “Andrew, I am hanging up now.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that you logged off the call.</p><p> </p><p>You felt wretched, but also deeply worried. Andrew was not himself. He was like a wounded creature lashing out. So, you texted Alex. They were close and they watched out for each other. You told him your concerns and asked him to check on Andrew. Alex knew that it had to be serious for you to reach out.</p><p> </p><p>The next day when you got home from work, you found Andrew sitting on his suitcase in front of your door. His long legs were stretched out in front of him. He was wearing a knit hat pulled down over his ears and his old square glasses with a chip in the frame.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a key.”</p><p> </p><p>“It didn’t seem appropriate to use it.” His voice cracked.</p><p> </p><p>You held up your key and gestured for him to move. You unlocked the door and he followed you inside. His exhaustion was palpable. The two of you stood there for a while. Each afraid to say the wrong thing or make the wrong move. Thankfully, he spoke first.</p><p> </p><p>“I am sorry. So sorry for my reaction yesterday. I shouldn’t have talk to like I did. You do not deserve that at all.” He looked broken then, like he felt he failed you</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>He started rubbing at his eyes and face. “Christ. I can’t keep doing this.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh. He’s here to break up with you. Of course. It’s a hassle having a long-distance relationship. Of course, he would do it in person. You felt something inside of you breaking.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t…please.” He walked over to you then. “Please, can I touch you?”</p><p> </p><p>“What? You’re not breaking up with me?” you were so confused.</p><p> </p><p>“No!!” You leaned into him. His long arms wrapped around you and one large hand cupped the back of your head. “I came to ask for forgiveness.” He whispered into your hair and kissed your head. “And I really missed you.”</p><p> </p><p>You looped your arms around his waist and placed your head on his chest. The two of you stood that way for a while.</p><p> </p><p>You took a step back and looked at him. “ When was the last time you ate?”</p><p> </p><p>“Em, I am not sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I am going to cook up some pasta for you. How long do I have you for?”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled. “I have to fly out tomorrow night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.” You rubbed his arm. “Go take a shower. Your pj’s are on the hook in the bedroom. I will make us dinner.” You gave him a look that said, ‘don’t argue with me’ and off he went.</p><p>You went to the kitchen hoping you had something to feed him. There was stuff to make a salad and some pancetta for carbonara. You got to work.</p><p> </p><p>Twenty minutes later he emerged from the bathroom. His hair was wet and tied up with one of your scrunchies. He had his pajamas on, but they hung on his lean frame.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi. Table is set. Open the wine?” you gestured with your chin.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” He focused on opening the wine, you could tell he was nervous.</p><p> </p><p>You plated up the pasta and brought it to the little table for two. “Music?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Definitely.” He pulled out his phone and synced it with your speaker. Otis Redding started singing about tenderness.</p><p> </p><p>The two of you sat down to eat.</p><p> </p><p>He reached across the table and took your hand. “ Thank you…for everything…I…em…” He was trying to compose his thoughts and himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, please, eat first. We can talk later.”</p><p> </p><p>He had two huge servings of carbonara and all of his salad. The two of you polished off the bottle of wine and you went to open another. He started cleaning the dishes.</p><p> </p><p>“Here. Liquid courage.” You slid a fresh glass towards him. He was wrist deep in the soapy water. You pulled out the folding barstool next the fridge and sat on it. The apartment was relatively quiet. Otis was singing quietly and Andrew hummed along while he worked. You watched him for a while. Inside, you were frantic with emotion. You loved this man and wanted to be with him, but you had learned the hard way about protecting yourself.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew…I love you very much. And I will do <em>anything</em> to help and support you. That being said, I can’t be someone’s emotional punching bag again. I can’t. Do you understand?”</p><p> </p><p>He stopped what he was doing and looked at you. His eyes were welling up. “Honey…God.” Next thing you knew he was cradling your face with his hands. “I will never do that I again. I promise. Please, please tell me that I didn’t ruin things between us.”</p><p> </p><p>Your vision was blurry and your voice cracked, “You haven’t, but please be careful with my heart.” He held you tight for a long time.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me finish cleaning up and we can relax.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, what time is your flight tomorrow?”</p><p> </p><p>“ 8:00…at night.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am going to make a quick call.” You phoned your supervisor and told her what was going on. You were hoping to get the afternoon off to spend with Andrew. She knew who you were dating and kindly told you to take a personal day. After that you answered some texts from Alex and the band. Everyone was concerned about Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>You went to tell Andrew the good news and found him asleep on your bed. He looked peaceful and relaxed for the first time in months. So, you turned off the lights and slid in next to him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A few hours later you woke up. Andrew was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you. You sat up and reached for him.</p><p> </p><p>“I was just thinking about how much I love you.” His voice was thick with emotion.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you do.” You squeezed his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I am absolutely living my dream, why do I feel so miserable?”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you been miserable the whole time?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Just recently. A few weeks.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about when you are onstage? Are you unhappy then?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!! I love what I am doing, I can’t believe that I get to do it, but….” He trailed off.</p><p> </p><p>“But what?” You started to rub his wrist to help ground him.</p><p> </p><p>“This is silly. I don’t have a right to complain about anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, it’s ok. You’re human like everyone else. I think you are exhausted and underfed.” He had lost a lot of weight and it scared you. “This schedule has been so compressed. It doesn’t seem like you have time for rest and self-care.”</p><p> </p><p>“It has been much busier this tour.” Even in the dark you could see the fatigue on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was devoted to his work, to his family and to his team. He always put himself last. “Are you feeling pressure from the team or is this coming from you?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked a little sheepish. “Em, it’s my own doing. Totally.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, the good news is you are the boss and you can make changes. And it’s ok to ask for help. My phone is full of messages from the band and the team. They are very worried about you and they want to support you.”</p><p> </p><p>“God, I didn’t mean to upset anyone…”</p><p> </p><p>You interrupted him. “Everyone knows that. Don’t feel bad. This is fixable.” You crawled over to him and wrapped him up in your arms. “It’s going to be ok.” He held on to you like you were a life raft in a storm.</p><p> </p><p>After a while the two of you slid back into bed. You curled yourself around him. “Let’s get some sleep. We can figure things out tomorrow.”</p><p>“Em, don’t you have to work?” He was playing with your hair and it was making you sleepy.</p><p> </p><p>“My supervisor gave me an extra personal day.”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a long breath. “Thank you… for being just what I needed.”</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Fortune Cookie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I used this prompt to create this chapter:</p><p>“I’m just doing what my fortune cookie said, who am I to stand against fate?”</p><p>Thanks for reading!!!!</p>
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    <p> </p><p>“So, Andrew….what do you do for a living?” You sipped your Sake and watched his face curl up into a smile.</p><p>“Ehmmm……I am a frustrated English professor.”</p><p>“Really? What is your area of expertise? Literature, poetry? Do tell.”</p><p>“Sadly, I have no discernable expertise in any area.” He sipped on his Japanese beer.</p><p>“Oh, I beg to differ Mr. Byrne.”</p><p>“Ehm, what is it you do?”  </p><p>“Well, I am a music therapist, but only during the day. At night I am part of a girl squad that fights crime in the city.”</p><p>“Really? Do you have a special superhero name?”</p><p>“Yes, but I can’t tell you.”</p><p>“Oh, that is too bad.” He drained his glass and signaled for another round. “Is there a special costume you wear?”</p><p>“Sir, it’s not a costume. It is a uniform, but I can’t show that either, at least not yet. Not until I know that you can keep a secret. You mustn’t reveal my identity to anyone.”</p><p>“I can keep a secret. Totally. You can trust me.” He was smiling broadly and his eyes were sparkling.</p><p>You and Andrew were sitting in the back corner of a little Japanese restaurant that you loved. It was a small family-owned place that had fantastic sushi and a full bar. He was in New York for a few days doing press, singing for a fundraiser and doing a pop-up concert in the subway.</p><p>“Ehmm. Tell me more about your job. It sounds so interesting.” The waiter brought your drinks and Andrew poured your Sake for you.</p><p>“Thank you. It <em>is</em> interesting and incredibly rewarding. Right now, I am working with veterans who are recovering from physical and psychological injuries. Lots of PTSD cases and traumatic brain injury stuff. It is amazing what music and singing can do for brain injuries.”</p><p>“How so?” He leaned forward.</p><p>“Well, there is the neurological branch of music therapy that uses music, rhythm and auditory stimulation to assist with gross motor recovery. We use singing to help people recover their speech after injury or delay. My practice is more humanistic and I use singing, playing instruments and improvising to help with emotional healing...Seriously, don’t get me going. I go on and on all night about this stuff.”</p><p>“Not at all. That’s incredible. Have you always wanted to do this?”</p><p>“No. I knew I wanted to be in music. I love singing and playing, but my stage fright is incredibly bad. Ask Rachel.”</p><p>“Mine too! I was scarred at an early age. I had to sing the Pieta and I was maybe nine or ten. My voice cracked on the top note and I just corpsed on stage!”</p><p>No!! You poor thing. How awful?”</p><p>“Even worse, I had to do it again the next night.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Same thing.”</p><p>“How on earth do you get up there every night?”</p><p>“No idea.” He shook his head.</p><p>“Masochist…Well, the therapy part was my Mom’s idea. She was a nurse and was really interested in all types of healing. She was right. It is definitely my calling.”</p><p>“And what does your father do? I am not sure you told me.”</p><p>“Oh…this will make you laugh. He is an English professor!!”</p><p>“No…you’re lying!!” Andrew was laughing riotously.</p><p>“Swear to God!!”</p><p>Just then the waiter brought your food. Andrew ordered the Sushi Boat for two. It was enormous.</p><p>“My God…look at that. I think we drained the Atlantic!!”</p><p>You pointed out some of your favorites that were the specialty of the house. He dug in with gusto.</p><p>“So, tell me, how is it going? I absolutely loved the subway concert by the way.” You popped some tuna in your mouth.</p><p>“Yeah. It’s been grand. Very busy, but exciting. I am sorry you missed the concert last night. It was good craic. Robert Plant was there! He is amazing.”</p><p>“Noooo. Don’t tell me. I love him and it was so sweet of you to invite me to go. But I couldn’t miss my friend’s birthday.”</p><p>“You are a good friend. How was the party?”</p><p>“Wonderful. She was surprised which never happens. Her fiancée did a great job. Who else was there? I heard Hozier was singing. Is he any good?”</p><p>“No. Total fraud.”</p><p>You spent the next hour eating, drinking and chatting. The conversation ran from the funny to the serious. It had been a long time since you had such a good date.</p><p>“This really was wonderful Andrew, thank you. I am so glad that you had the time to go out.”</p><p>He smiled. “Truthfully, I really didn’t have the time; I made the time. It was too important to me.”</p><p>Your heart flipped.</p><p>The waiter came with the check, an orange cut into a flower and two fortune cookies. Andrew paid the bill and then fed you an orange segment.</p><p>“Ehmmm...when can I see you again?” His voice was soft and he was blushing.</p><p>You looked at him and smiled. “As soon as possible.”</p><p>He blushed even more. “What’s your fortune say?”</p><p>You opened your cookie and took out the paper. “Let’s see<em>…A soft voice may be awfully persuasive. </em>Wow. What about yours?”</p><p>He looked at his paper and shook his head. <em>“A truly rich life contains love and art in abundance.”</em></p><p>This was going to be an interesting experience.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Puff Pastry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for joining me on this journey. Stay safe everyone!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After meeting Andrew in Ireland, you communicated a few times a week. A text here, an email there. There were a few phone calls to chat and one to schedule your date, but after the sushi date he was in contact with you every day. There were a lot of texts between the two of you. Sometimes serious, but mostly silly.</p><p>A: I have no idea what day it is or where I am at this point.</p><p>Guess that’s life on a bus?</p><p>A: Bus or Tardis!</p><p>---<br/>There was a Mariachi group on the train today. They were really good.</p><p>A: A whole band?</p><p>Just a trio… Still the logistics on that are complicated</p><p>---<br/>A: Some people in the front row gave us some Pride flags last night. We put them on the set.</p><p>That is so cool</p><p>---<br/>The man in front of me at Starbucks had a parakeet on his shoulder. It was green and yellow.</p><p>A: Was it on a leash?</p><p>No. Just very well trained I guess?!</p><p>---<br/>A: More pride flags and Black Lives Matter flags last night. I love this trend.</p><p>---<br/>A :Someone threw their underwear on stage last night.</p><p>Were you scandalized?</p><p>A: Absolutely!</p><p>One day you came home from work. It had been a long day and you were looking forward to a hot shower, a glass of wine and some frivolous tv. As you were going through your mail, you realized you had a letter. Not a bill, definitely not junk mail, it was a real letter from Andrew. It was written on heavy cream paper that had been torn (carefully) out of a journal. His distinctive handwriting was written in black. He likes those inky calligraphy pens.</p><p>The message was sweet. Just a “thinking about you” type of note, but said so much better than you could ever imagine. He included a Dana Gioia poem called The Song. The first line gave you a thrill.</p><p>How shall I hold my soul that it<br/>does not touch yours?</p><p>You read the letter over and over. It was such a romantic gesture and you are pretty sure no one has ever done that for you before. He was probably getting ready to go on stage soon, so you would text him later.</p><p>Showered, fed and finally relaxed , you poured your second glass of wine. The third season of Great British Bakeoff was on and it was exactly what you needed. The contestants were making puff pastry and were laminating their dough when your phone rang. It was Andrew.</p><p>“Hi! How did it go?”</p><p>“Fantastic. The crowd was outrageous. So much fun. How was your day?”</p><p>“Long and frustrating but I came home to a lovely letter. It really lifted me.”</p><p>“Ehm, I’m glad. I had to improvise on the stationary. It was that or hotel note paper.” He laughed. He always sounded so giddy after a good performance. You were so happy for him. “I wanted to ask you something.”</p><p>“Wait, let me turn down the tv.”</p><p>“Bakeoff?”</p><p>“Yes, puff pastry. High stakes stuff. Ok, you have my full attention.”</p><p>“I was wondering if you wanted to come visit me on tour? I would fly you out, of course and take care of the hotel. I really want to see you.”</p><p>You didn’t know what to say. Of course, you wanted to see him and spend time with him. You had vacation time that you hadn’t used, but it could be problematic.</p><p>“I’m sorry. Have I overstepped? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”</p><p>“Oh Andrew, it’s not that really. I just…I don’t want to complicate things for Rachel. You are her boss.” It was one thing to have dinner with him on your own, but another to basically crash the tour and Rachel’s workplace.</p><p>“You have a good point. I didn’t even think about that.”</p><p>You could hear voices in the background. Someone was calling Andrew’s name.</p><p>“Hey, if you have to go. Go. I need to get to bed soon anyway. Tomorrow is a work day.”</p><p>“Yeah. We are going to have dinner. Listen, I will figure something out. We’ll talk about this later?” He sounded hopeful.</p><p>“Absolutely. Andrew?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Your letter really made my day. Thank you.”</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Bathtime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a fun quick story for Friday. </p><p>If you have any fic prompts for me, let me know in the comments. Thank you for reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The lights were dimmed, the candles lit. Miles Davis’s <em>Kind of Blue</em> was playing on the speaker. The water was the perfect temperature. Bubbles floated on top like icebergs on the sea. Lavender and vanilla scented the air.</p><p> </p><p>The bath tub was the perfect size. It enabled you to stretch out without getting swallowed up and the water came up over your shoulders. You were never leaving this tub.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ever getting out of the tub?” His voice was soft and amused.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t hear. I am in my bubble.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bubble?”</p><p> </p><p>“My bubble of relaxation.”</p><p> </p><p>“It looks wonderful. Maybe I’ll join you.”</p><p> </p><p>At that your eyes flew open. “What? No… I mean…Baby, I would love that, but you really won’t fit in this tub with me. There’s not enough room.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew started taking off one of the many shirts he was wearing. “No. I think it will work. We might have to drain some of the water out this time. But I can fit.” He started taking off layer number two.</p><p> </p><p>You didn’t know what to say. One of the perks of having a Rockstar boyfriend was visiting said boyfriend on tour. Because of his height, the team always booked a room with a large bathroom and a king size bed. Apparently, he wasn’t so fortunate on the first tour as the bed on the bus was too small for him. Rather than say anything, he folded himself  like a pretzel every night until someone finally noticed.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew started laughing. “You should see your face!!”</p><p> </p><p>“What? You’re teasing me?”</p><p> </p><p>He was in a fit of laughter. Eyes gleaming with tears, his beautiful face was lit up with a smile. He sat on the edge of the tub. “Yes. I am. Forgive me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Always.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you love a good soak and after the disaster at the Marriot in….Louisville was it? I think separate baths is the way to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Yes. The Marriot. I think in the future we should avoid Kentucky all together.” You could feel your face burning with embarrassment.</p><p>“Totally, totally. Ehm, are you planning on staying in there all afternoon?” He slipped his hand into the water and found your leg. He wrapped his long slim fingers around your calf and started sliding up your leg.</p><p> </p><p>“Ahem…aren’t you supposed to be resting for the concert tonight?” You tried to keep a straight face but now he was rubbing circles on your thigh.</p><p> </p><p>“Resting my voice, yes. But I was planning on using a totally different part of my body.” His hand kept creeping higher. All thought went out the window.</p><p> </p><p>You were helpless at this point. “Um…oh. You have broken my resolve sir.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Don’t worry. The tub will be here later tonight.” He kissed you. “And so will I.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Conversation/Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hi. This is a tough chapter. It discusses sexual assault and abuse. So if you feel that you will be triggered, please skip this chapter. </p>
<p>It is Part 1 of 2</p>
<p>Thank you for reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>There are those who will break you, and those who will pick up the pieces</em>
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</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The tour was done. The holidays were over and you were spending ten days with Andrew in Ireland. You loved seeing him at home with his family and friends. He was relaxed and rested. The album and tour were huge successes and it was time to enjoy it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two of you went on hikes in the woods and did a little bit of sightseeing. You appreciated that he was willing to “play the tourist” with you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tonight, you had dinner at his home. You cooked some of his favorites (Italian, of course). Andrew was loading the dishwasher and you were wiping down the counters. After he finished, he turned to you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wanted to ask you about something?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course. What is it?” You walked over to him and slid your hands around his waist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was a conversation we had in your kitchen. Ehm…It was after you went to <em>Hamilton</em> and I was being a gobshite. You said something.” His voice was low and strained. “Something about being an emotional punching bag <em>again</em>. What did you mean by that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Your stomach dropped and your mouth went dry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked so upset, “Is it me? Have I been doing that to you all this time?” You laid your hands on his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No! Absolutely not. It wasn’t you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But it <em>was</em> someone?” He spoke so softly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Your heart was beating so hard and fast you were sure he could hear it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t want to upset you, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Are you ok?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh Andrew, I…um….” You didn’t know what to say. So many emotions were bubbling up, you started shaking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His voice was strangled with regret.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You took a large step back from him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I...I need a minute. I am going to go get some air.” And with that you were out the door. It was cold outside and it felt so good on your skin and in your lungs. You started walking down the driveway to get away from the house. What should you do? What should you say? You needed to talk to the one person who would understand. Luckily your phone was in your sweater pocket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Are you around? I need help</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Immediately, your phone rang. <em>Rachel</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s going on? Are you ok?” She was alarmed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Andrew put two and two together from something I said.” You started pacing up and down the driveway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did you say?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I said I couldn’t be someone’s emotional punching bag…again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh…you never told him, did you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. He is the first guy that hasn’t set off my alarm bells. It’s been so nice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know. It’s been great to see you happy with him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am happy. <em>So</em> happy. I don’t want that to change. I can’t have him look at me with pity.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Listen to me. Andy would never do that. Not the person I know. He is compassionate and understanding. He loves you so much. You can trust him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It just feels like I am going to lose everything.” You started breathing hard. “God…I can’t.” You couldn’t get a good breath; the panic was too much. You sat down in the middle of the gravel driveway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rachel could hear you struggling. “Hey. Just take a long slow breath in. Now let it out slowly. Ok. Again…Where are you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Andrew’s driveway.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where is he?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know…” You were hyperventilating now. It felt like drowning. The gravel was digging into your legs and your feet were numb with cold; you forgot your shoes. “I can’t go through this again…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing has to change. Breathe. Breathe for me.” Rachel was starting to panic on the other line. She was a world away from you right now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next thing you knew Andrew was crouched down next to you. He gently took your phone  and slid his arm around your shoulder. “Hi…it’s Andrew. I’ve got her….I’ll call you later.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He gathered you in his arms and held you. “It’s ok. I’m here, I’m here.” You were inconsolable. This grief was etched on your soul forever and once it came to the surface it was nearly impossible to push it back down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He rubbed your back gently and whispered in your ear. “It’s ok. Everything will be alright.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Time seemed to stand still.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry Andrew.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh honey. Christ!  It’s freezing out here. Where are your shoes?” He somehow managed to get you to your feet. “Up we go.” He picked you up and carried you back to the house.</p>
<p>…….</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here’s some tea.” Andrew had you on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket. You had come to learn that the Irish try to fix everything with a cup of tea. “Are you warm enough?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, thank you.” You sipped it slowly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sat down on the coffee table opposite you. “Ehm. I am so sorry for upsetting you. I shouldn’t have pushed you. You are under no obligation to tell me anything.” His voice was warm and calm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You didn’t push me, Andrew.  It was an honest question.” You wondered then. How much to tell? How much of your trauma and sadness to share with him? He had his own issues to deal with. But you also knew that in order to move forward, as a couple, he would have to know.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Andrew. How deep are you into this relationship?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tilted his head, brows furrowed. “I am all in. Why?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You swallowed hard. “I am afraid that after I tell you about…this thing that you will feel differently about me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shook his head. “Honey, there is nothing you could say that make me change the way I feel about you. And like I said, you don’t have to tell me anything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was so sweet. It broke your heart. “Seems like the genie is almost out of the bottle.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You handed him your mug of tea. “Can I please have a whiskey instead?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew took your mug into the kitchen. He returned with two glasses and a bottle of Jameson. He poured out two large servings and handed you a glass. You held on to it for dear life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was my senior year in college. I was dating someone who was a couple years older. He was already out of school and working. We met through a mutual friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew was listening intently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was a really fun relationship. He was a great guy…until he wasn’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew was frozen like a statue. He didn’t move and he barely blinked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It started with small things. Little complaints about how much time I was spending with him. Questions about who I spent my time with. He didn’t want me to look at grad school if it meant I had to move.” You took a few sips from your glass. “He started to pressure me to do things, sexually, that I was uncomfortable with.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this, Andrew let out a long breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He wanted me to….um….he was interested in things I found degrading.” You were starting feel nauseous. You looked at Andrew then. He had his arms wrapped around himself. His hands were gripping his arms so hard his knuckles were white. You knew he was trying not to touch you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was the moment. You knew everything would be different once your secret was out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Eventually he stopped asking. Then one night he just…did what he wanted. And it was like that for a while.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two of you were silent for a while. You could see he was processing what you said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have to remember that this was almost ten years ago. Freshman year they teach all the girls how not to get raped. <em>Don’t drink too much, don’t go out alone, never leave your drink uncovered or out of sight</em>. No one tells you that it could be your smart, successful boyfriend who violates you.” Your voice was high, the hysteria was starting to flare through your calm veneer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew was shaking his head. “They need to teach men not to assault.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have you ever heard the fable of how to boil a frog?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.” His voice was dry and cracked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you want to boil a frog and you put it a pot of boiling water it will jump out. But, if you put a frog in cool water and slowly bring it a boil, it doesn’t notice the change. It won’t jump out of the pot.” He nodded his head. “Well, I was the frog.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The house was deadly quiet. The only sound you could hear was the dishwasher changing cycles. You drank your whiskey and asked for a second glass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was trying to get out of the relationship, but it was hard. The shame really traps you.” You pictured yourself at that time. You were so young and confused. “Luckily, Rachel knew something was wrong. She called her Mom who drove to campus to talk to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank goodness for Beauregard.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You nodded your head in agreement. “They helped me to end it and got me professional support. It saved me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew started scrubbing at his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have worked very hard to move on from that. To heal and to grow as a person. But I am lucky to have such great support. Not everyone does.” You reached out and put your hand on his knee. He let out a long breath and relaxed a bit. He took your hand in his and rubbed it gently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you. Thank you for telling me and for trusting me. I am so sorry that this happened to you.” His eyes were wet with tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you have any questions? It’s ok if you do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm.” He paused for a moment. Then he looked at you, head tilted. “What can I do to be more supportive? Is there anything that I should be doing differently?” He was so earnest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You launched yourself at him and wrapped your arms around him. “I love you, you know that right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just then his phone started ringing. You saw the name on the screen <em>Beauregard. </em>“Ehm<em>. </em>Do you want to talk to her or should I?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um…can you take it?  I am…” You made a gesture to say you were drained.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He took the phone in the kitchen. You could hear bits of the conversation. “She’s ok….we talked….thanks Rachel…thank you…yes…I will.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew came back into the living room. “She says to call her tomorrow. She’s obviously concerned.” He poured another whiskey for himself. You were nursing yours.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks. I am just….so tired now.” It felt like the middle of the night, but it was only 9:00ish. “Andrew, are you ok?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked tired and sad. “Ehm. I am…heartbroken? Angry? I honestly  do not know.” He finished his whiskey.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>To be continued</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
<p>
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</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Conversation/Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TRIGGER: This chapter discusses Intimate Partner Violence. If you feel that this content will upset you, please skip.</p>
<p>If you are dealing with IPV or feel you need support please contact someone. </p>
<p>www.rainn.org has a lot of information and resources. </p>
<p>Thank you and be safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andrew came back into the living room. “She says to call her tomorrow. She’s obviously  concerned.” He poured another whiskey for himself. You were nursing yours.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks. I am just….so tired now.” It felt like the middle of the night, but it was only 9:00ish. “Andrew, are you ok?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked tired and sad. “Ehm. I am…heartbroken? Angry? I honestly do not know.” He finished his whiskey.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Would you have preferred it if I hadn’t told you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked at you like you were crazy. “No. I’d prefer that it never happened to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You realized then that you were holding your breath. The adrenaline had left your system and you were drained and shaken. You put your head in your hands. “I think I need to go bed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shook his head in agreement. “I will close up the house. You go ahead.” Andrew started to clear the glasses and bottle. You headed to the bedroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What was going to happen now? Despite his kind and supportive reaction, you were afraid things were irrevocably changed and not for the better. Dread settled into your bones.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>When you woke up the next morning, Andrew was beside you. He was still in his clothes and was sleeping on top of the blankets. You watched him as he slept. He really was beautiful. You didn’t remember him coming to bed and you wondered how much later he stayed up after you.</p>
<p>  </p>
<p>“Morning.” He was smiling at you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good morning.” You smoothed an errant curl off of his forehead. “What time did you come to bed?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm. I am not sure. How did you sleep?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ok.” You wanted to ask him so many questions. <em>What happens now? What do you really think of me? Do you still love me?</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Ehm. Today I thought we could go Glendalough. We can explore the monastic ruins, maybe go for a hike?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is this where St. Kevin of the bird fame lived?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He broke out in a brilliant smile. “Yeah, yeah. You remembered! The distillery is there too. We can taste some whiskey and have lunch. Would you like to go?”</p>
<p>“I would love it. But first….I need coffee. Please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He kissed you on the forehead. “I’m on it.” He disappeared to the kitchen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Rachel</em>. You wanted to call, but you were 6 hours ahead of Nashville and didn’t want to wake her. She would worry though, so it was best to text a quick message. Andrew had left your phone charging on the nightstand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Hi. It’s me. I am ok. sorry I upset you. A &amp; I talked. Things are ok. Call me when you can. Love u</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>After a quick breakfast, you and Andrew headed to Glendalough for the day. It was as beautiful as he had described. You visited the monastic site first. Andrew served as tour guide and was quite knowledgeable about the area. He showed you the Round Tower and St. Kevin’s Church. Then you rambled through the cemetery. Luckily, you brought your new camera with you. It was a gift from your brother and you put it to good use. The best part was the hike to the Upper Lake. The landscape was verdant and the sky was incredibly blue despite the occasional drizzle. The whole area had a mystical quality to it. You had never seen anything like it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You tucked into a small pub for a late lunch and a few pints. Unfortunately, you ran out of time to go to the distillery. It was growing dark and you were chilled to bone from the dampness. So, Andrew grabbed a bottle of whiskey in one of the shops for home. The drive back was quiet and between the lull of the engine and the beers, you fell asleep for a bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Honey, honey. We’re home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? Oh. Sorry. I am not much of a day drinker, am I?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You made your way into the house. He immediately put the kettle on. “Tea?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, please. I am going to change. My clothes are wee bit damp.” You tried your best at an Irish accent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew laughed at your attempt. “I’ll make us a fire.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You quickly changed into a pair of leggings, one Andrew’s sweaters and a pair of ridiculously fluffy socks. You wound your hair up into a bun and took off your earrings. Your phone started ringing. It was Rachel.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Hey.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you ok? What is going on over there?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am better than yesterday. Thanks again. I am so sorry if I upset you.” You plopped down on the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, stop with that. That’s what we do for each other! How is Andy? He sounded awful last night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was very difficult for him to hear. He hasn’t really said anything and he hasn’t touched me all day.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We went to Glendalough for the day and it was lovely, but he hasn’t so much put his arm around my shoulder. That’s not like him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew was a very private person, but he was also a tactile person. He was always touching you in some way or holding your hand. He would put his hand on your back to guide you and he would fix your hair when it got in your face. In private, he was very affectionate and loving. Today was strange to say the least.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s probably just giving you space. Have you asked him about it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. Rachel…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am worried that things between us are spoiled in some way.” You worried at your lip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You two need to talk. He is so sensitive and to hear about this…it’s a lot to process. Don’t give up on him. He’s one of the good ones.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, Rachel.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Text me later.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ok.”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Downstairs, Andrew had started a fire. The tea was made and he was looking through his vinyl collection.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop looking. You know you want to play Nina Simone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He smiled at you. “Nice jumper.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the couch and snuggled into the corner. Andrew handed you a mug.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>He sat on the other end of the couch. “I thought you didn’t get cold.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I usually don’t. But the dampness is something else.” You wrapped your hands around the mug to warm them up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here.” He pat his lap. “I’ll rub your feet.” You gently placed your feet in his lap. He started squeezing both of them to boost the circulation. Then he took one fluffy sock off and started to knead the arch of your tired foot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That feels amazing!!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He smiled. “Good. It’s supposed to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you for taking me to Glendalough. It was…incredible. I think I got some good photos too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew smiled at you. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Do want to use my laptop to upload your photos? I would love to see what you got.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You wouldn’t mind? That would be great.”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course not.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You sipped your tea. “I think this is the first time you have really touched me all day.” The minute it came out of your mouth you regretted it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stopped what he was doing and dropped his head. “You’re right.” You went to pull your feet back, but he held on to them. “Please. I want to do this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ok.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew focused on your feet. He smoothed, kneaded and rubbed every part of each foot. You watched the fire and drank your tea. After he was done with his ministrations, he put your socks back on your feet and held them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm…I’m scared.” He looked at you and you could see the fear in his eyes. “I have been in this situation before. A previous relationship…she, too, was a survivor… I was a lot younger then and completely out of my depth for so many reasons, but I really fucked it up. I didn’t mean to, but I did. And I hurt her…The thought of doing that to you is too much. I couldn’t bear it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You wanted so badly to touch him and to hold him, but you couldn’t move. Just a few days ago, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. When you got back from the airport, you practically tore each other’s clothes off. You made passionate love throughout the house. Now, the two of you were frozen to your spots on the couch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh Andrew, I am so sorry for all of this. Is it too much?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Christ…no, no. And please, stop thinking I have one foot out the door. I don’t.” He was speaking louder than normal. You pulled your feet out of his lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He let out a deep breath. “Do you think I want to end this relationship? Because every time we have a disagreement or something difficult comes up…you think I am going to break up with you.” He looked at you then with such tenderness. “Why is that? Am I doing something to make you think that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.” It was all you could come up with. The truth is he’s not the problem, you are. You wanted to run away. Talking about all of this meant discussing the past and all the different ways it haunts you. Despite all the therapy and support groups and individual work, you were always going to be a little damaged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Honey, what are you thinking about?” Andrew’s voice was so soft and soothing. He slid next to you. “Are you ok? You’re white as a ghost.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry for all of this.” The shame flooded your body. It felt like it would choke you to death. You started to cry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not your fault.” He was holding your face in his large hands. “I just… I wish I knew what to do. I am a little at sea here.” He wiped your tears away with his thumbs.  You leaned into his touch. His hands were warm and they smelled of the lavender soap he kept in the kitchen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hate being like this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like what? A human being?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You were about to laugh, but then you realized he was serious. He was also right. “What do you want to know?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sat back. “Whatever you want to tell me.” He was so open and infinitely kind. You realized that this was make or break. Tell him now and get it out in the open or stay silent and all of that pain and shame would fester.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am afraid that now that you know my secret, you will find me unattractive and unlovable. I’m worried that I have ruined things between us. I absolutely hate that I am like this….needy and insecure. I’m scared that I am always going to be haunted by this past relationship. I am so tired of having to work so hard to undo the harm that he caused. And I know, logically, that I am not at fault, that I didn’t cause this, that I am the victim.” You paused. “But I am also the same person who fell in love with a man who controlled me, undermined my sense of self and raped me repeatedly….so I can’t always trust myself.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>To be continued…</p>
<p> </p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Conversation-Part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger Warning: This chapter deals with abuse and assault. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU THINK IT COULD BE A TRIGGER FOR YOU.</p><p>Thank you for riding the emotional rollercoaster with me! The next chapter will be much less stressful.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I am afraid that now that you know my secret, you will find me unattractive and unlovable. I’m worried that I have ruined things between us. I absolutely hate that I am like this….needy and insecure. I’m scared that I am always going to be haunted by this past relationship. I am so tired of having to work so hard to undo the harm that he caused. And I know, logically, that I am not at fault, that I didn’t cause this, that I am the victim.” You paused. “But I am also the same person who fell in love with a man who controlled me, undermined my sense of self and raped me repeatedly….so I can’t always trust myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew took off his glasses and tossed them on the coffee table, he let out a long breath. His eyes were wet with tears. “May I say something?”</p><p> </p><p>You shook your head yes.</p><p> </p><p>“I am here for you in any way that you need me. As far as what I think of you or feel for you….I love you and nothing is going to change that. I think you are amazing and very brave.”</p><p> </p><p>The two of you held each other for a while. You didn’t speak, but communicated in a way only lovers can. After a while, you went to bed hoping for a better day tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When you woke up, the house was dark and still. You tried to get up from the bed, but couldn’t move. Something was keeping you pinned down. You struggled for a bit, but the force keeping you there was stronger than you. Suddenly, a large hand slid around your throat and started to squeeze. <em>Please, please, please</em>… You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get up, couldn’t yell. The hand squeezed harder, your eyes watered, your heart was pounding….You tried to scream. Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>You woke up in Andrew’s bedroom, sweaty, confused and screaming. Your heart was a jackhammer in your chest and your body ached. It was always the same, the dream that haunted you. When things came up, when you were really stressed, this nightmare reared its ugly head.</p><p> </p><p>It was just you in the bed. Andrew was nowhere to be seen. You went into the bathroom and splashed your face with cold water. <em>It’s just a nightmare. It’s not real anymore.</em> His sweater was on the hook and you put it on over your pajamas to keep out the chill. Time to find Andrew. You headed downstairs to the kitchen. He wasn’t there. You looked in the living room and the dining room to no avail. He must be in the studio.</p><p> </p><p>You made your way down the hallway to his studio. You could hear the piano being played. As you got to the doorway, you could see Andrew sitting at the piano. He had a glass of whiskey and was plunking the keys randomly.</p><p> </p><p>“Am I bothering you?”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t look up. “No, come in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you writing?” You sat down in a chair close to the piano.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” He picked up the whiskey bottle from the floor and refilled his glass.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t sleep?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want me to leave you alone?”</p><p> </p><p>He took a large gulp from the glass. “Ehm….no.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>The two of you sat in silence. Andrew was clearly drunk and on his way to being obliterated. You had seen him happily buzzed when celebrating, but never like this. It worried you.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, may I ask you something?” He still wasn’t looking at you.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…is this…person…is he... Are you safe from him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe so. I haven’t seen him in almost 10 years.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where is he?”</p><p> </p><p>You honestly had no idea where he was. “I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did he ever go to jail for what he did to you?” His eyes were glassy and he was slurring his words a little.</p><p> </p><p>“No. I never reported it to the police.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew nodded his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, how can I help you?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at you. “I am the one that’s supposed to say that.” He took another sip.</p><p> </p><p>“You already have.” He was obviously in a lot of pain. “What’s on your mind?”</p><p> </p><p>He was swirling the amber liquid in the glass. “Ehm…I can’t…I’m sorry…I’m making this all about me.” He emptied the glass and went for the bottle.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew. Please. No more whiskey.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded his head in agreement.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ok. You can talk to me about what you’re feeling. I’ve had a decade to deal with it, you are on day two. I can’t imagine what you are feeling.”</p><p> </p><p>He started playing some notes on the piano. Nothing that made sense. He shook his head. “What’s on my mind?” He let out a wry laugh. “I have been sitting here thinking of all the horrible, painful things I would do to him… I’m feeling murderous and that makes me happy. I’m a pretty peaceful dude, but I would totally fuck him up if I could.”</p><p> </p><p>He slammed his hand on the keys. The noise startled you.</p><p> </p><p>He was getting angrier. “It makes me wonder if I am more like yer man than not.” He grabbed the bottle and poured another glass.</p><p> </p><p>You went to him and took the glass away. Gently, you put your hands on his face and made him look you. “Andrew…you are nothing like him. You would never intentionally hurt anyone. It is not in your nature. Everything you do in your life and in your work is to help other people.” You smoothed his hair back. “It’s ok to be angry. It would be strange if you weren’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I was so mean to you, you said it yourself...” He looked so sorry.</p><p> </p><p>“What? No. It’s not the same thing. You were lashing out and looking for help.”</p><p> </p><p>“But...”</p><p> </p><p>You cut him off. “Listen to me. We talked about it and it’s over. Seriously, Andrew, you are not in the same category as that man. Would you would ever hurt me on purpose?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or try to humiliate me or control me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Never.”</p><p> </p><p>“Would it give you pleasure to inflict pain on me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Christ. No!”</p><p> </p><p>You were crying now. “So, don’t ever compare yourself to that…creature. Please.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at you. “I wish I could take it all away…”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. I wish I could take <em>your</em> pain away.” You caressed his face, he leaned into your touch.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think they are in the same league.” He took your hand and kissed it.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, please. Come to bed. Don’t make me sleep alone.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at you for a long minute. “Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>By some miracle, you got all 6 feet 6inches of him up the stairs, into the bedroom and finally, in the bed. You made him drink water and take some ibuprofen for the hangover. You stripped off his sweater and slid in next to him. He wrapped you up in his arms and held you tight to him.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you. I’m so sorry.” He fell asleep.</p><p> </p><p>As you lay there, you remembered an article you read about sexual assault and abuse. It compared the effects to the ripples in a pond when a rock is thrown in it. The pain and hurt radiate out around the survivor to their loved ones. Everyone is affected in some way.</p><p> </p><p>Hopefully, tomorrow would be a better day.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Barista</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a quick one. I am still working on the final part of The Conversation. Hopefully, I will be able to post it next week.</p><p>Have a great weekend.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To say you had  coffee habit would be an understatement. Forget habit, it was a full-blown love affair. Every morning you had a latte. After lunch, you would have a quick shot of espresso and sometimes a brewed coffee in the afternoon. Unfortunately, between your expensive New York City existence combined with student loan debt, you had to cut back. You pulled out your Mom’s old espresso pot. It was a million years old and worked on top of the stove. You heated milk in the microwave and had café au lait instead. You budgeted for the espresso shot at work. It was double-shot to be exact and you got it across the street from where you worked. You liked the ritual of it, it reminded you of your times in Italy visiting family. Also, it was a small independent shop that you liked supporting. You gave up your brewed coffee in the afternoon  because you never got it right on your own.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew drank coffee every day, but tea was his passion. You were pretty sure that Ireland would revoke his citizenship if he didn’t love it. He kept one of the plug-in kettles on your counter and a drawer filled with several different teas.  You had been living together, in your apartment, for two months now. Things had settled and the two of you had developed a routine, it was wonderful. He was very flexible and easy. Your tiny apartment was not much compared to his beautiful home back in Ireland, but he didn’t seem to mind the cramped living quarters. He was happy to be with you and was enjoying everything the city had to offer.</p><p> </p><p>You came home from work one night to find Andrew in the kitchen. He was clearing what little counter space you had.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi.”</p><p> </p><p>He was a little startled, “Oh, hey!” He gave you a big kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“What is happening in here?” It looked like a tornado blew through the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm...I got you something.” He showed you a box.</p><p> </p><p>“An espresso machine?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you like it? Is it ok?” He looked nervous.</p><p> </p><p>It was a top of the line espresso machine with bean grinder and milk frother. You had looked at one in Williams-Sonoma, it cost more than your first car.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh wow. It’s amazing. Thank you.” You hugged him tight. “You are so thoughtful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I noticed you were making espresso at home. I thought you could use a better machine.”</p><p> </p><p>This was the type of gift you loved. Thoughtful and useful. “It’s perfect. Thank you. Can we try it out?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Ehm…let me get it set up.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go change while you work your magic.”  You went into the bedroom and took off your work clothes. It felt so good to slip into your yoga pants and Hozier t-shirt.  You went into the bathroom, put your hair up and washed up a little to get the city off of you. As you hung the towel on the hook, you looked around the little bathroom. Andrew’s toothbrush was in the holder, his contact lens case and accessories were on the shelf. The two of you were sharing hair ties and he was definitely stealing your leave-in conditioner and curl cream (you had curly hair too.) It made you so happy to see his things around and to see him fit right into your space.</p><p> </p><p>Back in the kitchen, Ella was singing and Andrew was pulling the first espresso shot.</p><p> </p><p>“How’s it going?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm… good. I watched a YouTube video from the manufacturer. It was very informative.” He had a dishcloth slung over his shoulder and his brows were furrowed in concentration. Next, he frothed the milk. You sat on the folding stool and waited for your drink.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir. I am afraid I don’t have any money with me.” You smiled at him.</p><p> </p><p>His lips curled up. “Really? That’s a shame because there are no free drinks here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, but I really need the caffeine!! Is there any other way I can pay you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am scandalized! Miss, I have a girlfriend!”</p><p> </p><p>“Does she appreciate your…skills?” You were close enough that you were able to rub your foot on the inside of his leg.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh…she certainly does.” His cheeks were aflame. He finished pouring the latte and handed it to you. “Madame.”</p><p> </p><p>It looked delicious. You took a sip and it was the best coffee you’ve had since Rome. “Babe, this is fantastic!!!” You handed the cup for him to try.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow. Not bad for my first time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if the music career doesn’t pan out, you could always work at Starbucks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Totally. I would kill in tips.” He smiled at you. “Or I could be a man of leisure and let my sexy girlfriend support me.” His eyebrows did a little dance.</p><p> </p><p>You were laughing now. “Oh, that would be a big mistake. She works in mental healthcare. Not a lot of money.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fair point. Better practice my latte-making skills.”</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, this really is delicious. Just as good as my favorite place in Rome.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew leaned against the counter. He was making a cup of tea now. The kettle was making a whooshing sound. “Ehm. When was the last time you were Italy?”</p><p> </p><p>You had to think. “About 3 years ago, I went and stayed with my cousin. She’s from Avellino, but she lives in Rome now.”</p><p> </p><p>The kettle was steaming. Andrew had his mug and tea bag at the ready. “We played Italy a few times and I vacationed there for a bit. The countryside was beautiful and the people were so warm…” He filled his mug carefully and added a little honey. He smiled at you. “Would you like to go back to Italy?”</p><p> </p><p>“I always want to go back to Italy. What part did you go to?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, well…we played San Remo and in Turin. We did a little blues festival in Tuscany. I spent some time in Florence and a couple of days in Milan.” He blew on his tea and fussed with the tea bag.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you been to Rome?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…Just the airport.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s too bad. It is incredible. You would love the ancient ruins and the art. The people are fantastic. It is some of the best people-watching in the world. And you haven’t lived until you have ridden in a Roman taxi. You think New York cabbies are daredevils? Roman ones drive without rules.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go? Just like that…let’s go?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, yeah. Why not? When do you get more vacation time?”</p><p> </p><p>“After the first of the year.”</p><p> </p><p>He just smiled at you.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, really. Why don’t take a look at flights after dinner?” He put his cup down and stepped in front of you. He took your face in his hands. “Let’s go to Rome.” He kissed you and it was full of the promise of things to come.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Conversation-Part 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Talk of triggers. Sexual Content (Sweet sexy stuff!!!) </p><p>Pardon any typos. I don't have a Beta. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning came far too quickly. You hadn’t slept well or long, but you knew there was no  way of going back to sleep now. Andrew was out like a light, but he was still holding you close. You laid there, listened to him breathe and enjoyed the warmth of his body.</p><p> </p><p>After a while, you extricated yourself from his grasp. He barely moved a muscle. You grabbed your toiletries bag and a change of clothes and headed to the guest bathroom to get ready. After a long hot shower, you threw on some leggings and a long-sleeve tee you got at Trinity. Andrew had taken you there a few days ago when you were exploring Dublin. He reminded you that he never graduated and was in fact a drop-out. You knew this, of course, so you teased him and said you would wear it in honor of Alex. You both had a good laugh about that.</p><p> </p><p>Downstairs in the kitchen, you started the coffee and perused the fridge. There were leftover, roasted vegetables from the other night and some aged cheddar cheese. You might as well make a frittata. It was a favorite of yours and then there would be something for Andrew when he woke up (if he wanted it). He usually started his day with steel-cut oats, but they made poor leftovers. Before you started cooking, you put together a little tray for Andrew; fresh water, ibuprofen, plain crackers, Actonel (Irish Pepto) and Lucozade, an Irish sports drink the band swore by for hangovers. When you got to his room, he was face down on the bed with a pillow over his head fast asleep. You left the tray on the bedside table, closed the blinds and left as quietly as possible. He had been through the emotional wringer and you wanted him to get as much rest as possible.</p><p> </p><p>You took advantage of the time to yourself, enjoyed the breakfast you made and drank coffee while you read the paper online. After you cleaned up, you took over the living room. It had a lovely fireplace and the perfect couch for curling up and reading. You opened the flue of the chimney and started to build a fire. In Ireland they use something the locals call <em>turf</em>. It was compressed and dried peat briquettes. You made a little stack and lit it. The fire came up quickly and immediately warmed the room.</p><p> </p><p>Your tablet was loaded with several books you were dying to read, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Your mind kept going back over the past couple of days. Dredging up your past was exhausting and painful. You had spent years in therapy going over it and analyzing it. You were somewhat inured to its effects and yet, it still hurt. What was it like for Andrew? To hear something so upsetting about someone you loved? How do you get over that?</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p> </p><p> You looked up. Andrew was in the doorway, rubbing his hands together.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi.” You gave him a big smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I’m sorry. I drank way too much last night. I hope I didn’t upset you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew… baby, please. You have nothing to be sorry for.” You put your hand out to him, an invitation to sit. He took it and sank into the couch next to you.</p><p> </p><p>“How long have you been up?”</p><p> </p><p>“I woke up around 8:00. Listen, I only have a few days left before I head back. So, let’s try to relax and have fun?” You could see the weight literally come off his shoulders. He nodded and proceeded to collapse, head in your lap, long legs stretched out and hanging over the arm of the couch. You started scratching his scalp and rubbing his temples. He practically purred with delight.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, we could just do this for the rest of the time.” His eyes were closed and his long lashes cast shadows across his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.” You pulled gently on his ears and massaged along his jaw. The rain pattered against the windows and the fire crackled. Last night’s conversation felt like a million years ago.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew took hold of your hand and kissed it. “Have you eaten?”</p><p> </p><p>“I had a big breakfast.”</p><p> </p><p>“No lunch?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are <em>you</em> hungry?  </p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…yeah. I am.”</p><p> </p><p>“God bless your stomach.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at you. “Ehm…well, it was a bit dodgy when I woke up.” He patted his stomach for emphasis. “But your wee tray was very helpful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lucozade?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>You laughed. “I made frittata. Would you like some?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please, but first, more of this.”</p><p>---</p><p>Andrew ate the rest of the frittata along with fruit, toast and tea. After a shower and a second cup of tea, he said he felt like a new man. It was too rainy to go out and you were happy to just relax at home with him. He stoked the fire and the two of you camped out on the couch for the afternoon. He read some poetry to you for a while. There was a cat nap or two and you finished season two of Derry Girls. It was getting late and dark; the rain hadn’t let up. For dinner, you sat by the fire and had leftover lamb stew with big glasses of red wine.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was washing the dishes and you were opening a box of Belgian chocolates. He had a stash of chocolates in the cupboard that he picked up from all over. You bit into a dark chocolate truffle.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow. This is outstanding! Here, try a bite.” He took the rest of the truffle from your hand and sucked on your thumb in the process. You got a second truffle from the box.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, hey. I almost forgot. I have a call I have to take tonight.” He glanced at the clock on the wall.</p><p> </p><p>“What time?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, about a half hour.”</p><p> </p><p>“No worries. I think I will go soak in your tub for a bit.” You gave him a quick kiss. He poured you another glass of wine and you headed upstairs with it.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew’s master bath had an enormous soaking tub. It was specially ordered and he actually fit in it with room to spare. Your apartment had a small shower and that was it, but you loved to soak in a good tub. When you were in Dublin, Andrew took you to a little shop to get some bath bombs and salts. Tonight felt like a good night for jasmine. You put on a sheet face mask and soaked for a good long time. Every inch of you was relaxed, lotioned and soothed. It felt so good after the drama of the last couple of days.</p><p>---</p><p>When you were done, you went into the bedroom. Andrew was stretched out on the bed with a glass of wine next to him. The lights were dimmed and his Ella playlist was on. He seemed lost in her voice. When he saw you, he smiled. “Hey, how was your soak?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fantastic. I am contemplating stealing your tub and taking it home.”</p><p> </p><p>He laughed. “You could put it where the couch is now. That could work!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure. I could fill it with pillows when I am not soaking in it. Part couch, part tub.” You were laughing too.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey… Come here. Please.” He patted the spot next to him. You acquiesced.</p><p> </p><p>The bed was soft, you were warm and pliant from the bath.</p><p> </p><p>“How was your call?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…it was good. Helpful.” He took your hand.</p><p> </p><p>You just sat there looking at each other. It was awkward all of a sudden. Neither of you knew what to do. There was tension in the air, emotional and sexual. He smiled at you and stroked your face. You climbed into his lap and started to kiss him. He stroked your back and arms.</p><p>You slid your hands in his hair, his mouth was on your neck and you started to lose yourself in the moment. You rolled your hips against him and explored his mouth with your tongue. Just then, he took hold of your hips and stilled you. “Honey, please.” You stopped cold. “I just….I want to take our time.”</p><p> </p><p>This was the first time you were making love in the after. He knew your truth now and it made you feel exposed. You shivered.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, it’s ok.” Andrew pulled you close to him. “It’s ok. Do you still want to do this?” He kissed your head.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Do you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” He whispered into your ear. “Are you nervous?” You nodded your head; he held you tighter. “Me too.”  He rubbed your back and hummed. It helped to ease your anxiety.</p><p> </p><p> You pulled back and looked at him. His lips were swollen from kissing, his green eyes were half-lidded and full of desire. He reached up and took the clip out of your hair, it came down across your shoulders like a curtain. He started to twirl one of your curls around his finger. “Ehm…so, is there anything else you want me to know? Anything that you don’t like or  rather not do?”</p><p> </p><p>You had already had this conversation the first time you were intimate. At the time you marveled at how relaxed you were with him and how safe you always felt. You couldn’t imagine him doing any of things that frightened you, so you didn’t say anything. It isn’t in his DNA.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Andrew, you could never hurt me.”</p><p> </p><p>He took your hands in his own and started to rub them tenderly. “Honey, please. Can we talk about this?” You nodded. “I…I need to know what I <em>shouldn’t </em>do. I don’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”</p><p> </p><p>He was right. This is the therapist’s playbook. Talk about your triggers beforehand. Establish clear boundaries. Make sure everyone is on the same page.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you want to talk about this?” He was not going to let go of it.</p><p> </p><p>You couldn’t look at him. “Honestly? I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can handle it. I am not breakable.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, neither am I.” Your words came out more harshly than you meant.</p><p> </p><p>He was taken aback by your comment. “I know that. I have <em>never</em> thought of you as being fragile.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” You went to move off his lap, but he stopped you. He gave you a look that said <em>Out with it</em>.</p><p> </p><p>You spoke slowly and calmly. “My triggers are…clear cut. Don’t pin me down. Don’t grab me hard. Please, do not grab at my neck or yank me by the hair. When I say don’t or no or stop, please stop immediately. And please, please do not ever choke me.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was white as a ghost. He took in a deep breath. His expression was very tense.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you see now why I didn’t say anything? You would never…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew took your face in his hands. He just looked over your features, his eyes wet with tears. “Thank you for telling me.” His voice was so quiet. “Oh honey….” He just shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, please…kiss me.” So he did, softly at first. He kissed your mouth, your cheeks, your nose. He trailed kisses down your neck. His hands slid from your hips to the tie on your robe.</p><p> </p><p>“May I?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p> </p><p>He undid the sash and carefully pulled the robe down your arms, exposing your shoulders and chest. He kissed you there too. He traced patterns on the skin of your breasts.</p><p> </p><p>“Your skin is so soft.”</p><p> </p><p>He rolled you over onto the bed and opened your robe all  the way. Your skin prickled from the cool air. He lavished every inch of you with attention from his lips, his tongue, his touch. He came back to your mouth and sucked on your lip. His mouth tasted of chocolate and wine. The weight of his body made you feel anchored and safe.</p><p> </p><p>You pulled on the hem of his shirt. He took the hint, sat up and took it off.</p><p> </p><p>You smiled up at him. “Andrew, you are so beautiful.” The blush spread across his cheeks. “Come here.”</p><p> </p><p>His pale skin was warm and he smelled like soap. The way it felt against your own was heaven. The soft hairs on his chest tickled your breasts. He rolled his hips into yours.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, take off your pants.” He groaned at your request. He rolled off of you and slid his pants and boxers down and tossed them on the floor. “Lie down.” You straddled his shins and looked him up and down. “Much better.” Slowly, you slid your body against his, kissing his skin along the way. You captured his length between your breasts and kissed along his ribs. You slid higher and found a nipple, biting it  gently. He ran his right hand down your spine, the long nails scratching you lightly. His other hand slid between your thighs. His fingers were calloused from playing guitar and the extra friction that created was delicious.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” You started to breathe hard.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” He kissed you while he kept up his movements. It felt so good. You took him in your hand. He was so hard and his skin was hot. You gently massaged him.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh honey, I…I can’t wait any longer.” His hips bucked against yours which made his touch more intense.</p><p> </p><p>You were on the edge.  “Oh…Yes…please.”</p><p> </p><p>He stilled your movements. “Honey…look at me.” You opened your eyes .He was so vulnerable and yet, so loving. He held on to your hips and slowly slid inside of you, never breaking eye contact. Now, you were connected to each other in the most physical and personal way possible. You moved against each other and talked with your bodies. It was just the two of you now, the world didn’t exist and there was no past, no future, just this moment. Andrew took your hand and held it against heart.</p><p> </p><p>He started to speed up his movements and you moved with him. His hand slid back between your legs and stroked you. “I want to watch you come.” His voice was an octave lower than normal. You were starting lose control. The touch of his fingers and the heat of him inside of you were driving you over the edge. You couldn’t maintain control even if you wanted to. Your body started to spasm and your thighs clenched against him. Andrew kept up his pace and you were completely lost to it. The relief was sweet, the pleasure hummed along your nerves. You started to come down when he grabbed hold of your hips and drove into you hard and fast. You watched his sweet face. He moaned with pleasure and relief. His body kept moving with yours as rode out his orgasm. When he was done, you laid down on top of him, still connected, and kissed his face. You stayed that way for a while. Your breathing slowed and synced up.</p><p> </p><p>He carefully rolled you over so that you were lying side by side. His eyes were so bright. “I love you.” He started to play with your hair.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, Andrew… More than you will ever know.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Join the Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fluffy chapter about moving in together and getting a dog.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi Everyone. I started working on a story with our couple vacationing in Italy. It is going to be much longer than I originally thought. So it will take more time to get it posted. </p><p>In the meantime, enjoy a fluffy story with a dog.</p><p>I hope you are enjoying these stories.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a busy few months. After your Christmas visit, you went back to New York to start the process of moving and leaving your job. Your Dad and brother were sad to see you go, but they were delighted for you as well. They loved Andrew and they knew you were extremely happy with him. Flights to Ireland were plentiful and not that long. The move had gone better than you hoped and you were starting to get settled in your new space. Andrew’s family and friends were excited for you and were incredibly supportive.</p><p> </p><p>You had settled in nicely and took no time in taking over the kitchen. Andrew was more than happy to relinquish the space. You organized it in a way that worked for you and added your things from New York. The espresso machine had a prime spot on the counter and there was finally plenty of room for the cups, saucers and spoons that went with it. You made yourself a latte and grabbed your phone. It was new and you were still getting it organized with your Apps and numbers.</p><p> </p><p>After coffee, you and Andrew went to the beach for your daily walk. It was cold and the wind was blowing pretty hard, but you were both bundled up. The tip of Andrew’s nose was bright red; you wanted to warm it up for him. These walks were one of your favorite things about moving to Ireland. You certainly didn’t have quick access to the beach in New York. A Labrador retriever came bounding down the beach. He had a ratty tennis ball in his mouth and a red collar. He dropped the ball in front of Andrew and started barking at him. He promptly picked it up and threw it.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry!!” An older couple was walking towards you. “I hope he isn’t bothering you?” The man had on a plaid cap and scarf.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…not at all. He is gorgeous. What’s his name?” Andrew was smitten.</p><p> </p><p>“Riley.” The man replied as he got closer to you. Just then the dog came charging up. He dropped the ball in front of Andrew again. “Now Riley, leave the lad be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Truly, it’s no bother… You’re a good dog, Riley!” He patted the dog’s head. Andrew’s smile was luminous. He threw the ball again, the dog took off after it. “Really, it’s my pleasure.”</p><p> </p><p>The woman had a scarf wrapped around the lower part of her face. Her eyes were twinkling.</p><p> </p><p>“Have a good day!” The couple went on their way.</p><p> </p><p>You finished your walk and headed back to the car. You were sitting in it with heat blasting to warm up.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we should get a dog?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew looked at you. “Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>You shook your head. “Yes. Absolutely.”</p><p> </p><p>He put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot. You fiddled with your new phone and managed to get Spotify going.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I would love to get a dog, but we travel so much.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. You are the one who travels all the time. I will be home taking classes and studying for the boards.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>You looked at him. One of his curls had escaped from his beanie and was floating around his head. “Why are you sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a long breath. “You have given up everything to be with me…here in Ireland. Now you are starting over…”</p><p> </p><p>You cut him off before he could continue. “Andrew, we have talked about this multiple times. I made a change and have certainly gained more than I gave up. It’s a couple of classes and a test. It’s not a big deal for me, I’m a great student.” You took his hand and kissed it. “So, I am around for the dog and when I travel with you, we can get a pet sitter or kennel him. We have options.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.” He seemed to cheer up.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Andrew’s house was an old country estate that he had renovated. There was studio and a recording suite that he practically lived in. You needed a space of your own where you could study, practice and chill out. So, you took over an extra bedroom on the second floor. It was a corner room with high ceilings and lots of light from two large windows. You painted it Pavilion Blue and got a beautiful kilim rug in shades of pinks, greys and greens. Today you were installing the special wall hangers that would hold your guitars and ukulele.</p><p> </p><p>When you moved in, you found out that Andrew didn’t have many tools. He wasn’t handy in particular, but you were.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“How do know how to do all of this stuff?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You were fixing a pocket door that had a loose track. “My Dad taught me.” Despite being a quiet, bookish English professor, your Dad could fix anything he came across. “My Grandfather was blue collar auto worker. He taught my Dad everything.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>So, one day you went to hardware store and bought a good tool kit and a drill. You were using that drill to make the last set of holes in the plaster.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…do you need help?” Andrew was leaning in the doorway, watching you.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi. I’m almost done, but you can get the guitars out and hang them on the hooks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” Andrew set about his task. When you were done, all three guitars and your uke were hanging on the wall. “Honey, that looks really nice!”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks. I like keeping them off the floor. I’m so clumsy sometimes…I worry I will knock them over.” Andrew came over and wrapped his arms you. He kissed the top of your head. “I really do love having you here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Happy to be here.” You kissed him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I don’t think we have christened this room yet.” Andrew slid his hands under your shirt.</p><p> </p><p>You started to laugh. “That’s surprising. I thought we had christened every room in this house!” He was sucking on your neck.</p><p> </p><p>“No. I’m sure we still have a few rooms to go!”</p><p> </p><p>Next thing you knew, you were lying on your new rug, topless with Andrew doing filthy things to you with his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>“So, I have been thinking about your idea… About getting a dog.” Andrew was sitting at the island, drinking a glass of wine and watching you chop vegetables for dinner.</p><p> </p><p>“And?”</p><p> </p><p>“We should do it.” He gave you that lopsided grin of his.</p><p> </p><p>You stopped what you were doing. “I think it’s a great idea. Why don’t you grab your laptop? Maybe there are some dogs available at the shelter.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew got up to look for his computer. “Grand. It’s a Grand idea... Come on now, you’re in Ireland.” He winked at you.</p><p> </p><p>“You can take the girl out of New York!!!” He was laughing at you in the room. You started to sauté the vegetables in olive oil.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…what are we having tonight? It smells great.” He came back into the kitchen, laptop in hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Pork chops with vinegar peppers and potatoes.” You tossed the garlic and spicy pepper flakes into the pan. Things were sizzling.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew sat down, opened the laptop and started looking for a dog. He was focused on the task; his brows were furrowed and he was hunched over looking at the screen. You finished cooking everything on the stove top. The whole thing needed to go into the oven for twenty minutes. You slid the pan into the oven then joined Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I looked the Dublin ASPCA. They had some lovely dogs but…nothing that clicked. Do you want to look at them?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. It’s ok.” You looked over his shoulder. “Where is this shelter?” You took a sip from his glass.</p><p> </p><p>“Wicklow.” He clicked on the link for dog adoptions. Several photos of dogs came up. Each one had a name and a little biography. One of the dogs was a lab mix, he was all black and had one brown eye and one blue.</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, what about this one?” You pointed to the picture. He clicked on the link and a full-page bio opened up:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Murphy is a two-year old lab mix. He was found wandering the streets and no one has ever claimed him. He is sweet and fun-loving, but needs a lot of exercise. Daily walks are a must. He loves to be with people, play fetch and snuggle. Can be a little needy.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The look on Andrew’s face told you everything you needed to know. “Let’s fill out the form and ask to meet him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you fill it out and I will make the salad.”</p><p> </p><p>The two of you enjoyed dinner and had a little glass of whiskey by the fire before heading upstairs. After soaking in the tub, you came into the bedroom. Andrew was on his laptop.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you up to?” You climbed into bed.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew gave you a guilty look. Generally speaking, he did not bring work or computers into the bedroom. He read every night, but only out of real books.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm….I…” He turned the computer around so you could see the screen. He was looking up dog toys and supplies on Amazon.</p><p> </p><p>All you could do was kiss him.</p><p> </p><p>“I am probably counting my chickens and all that…” He blushed.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ok to be excited.” You kissed him again.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>The next day came and went with no call or email from the shelter. The website showed Murphy’s status as Available. You hoped he really was. Andrew definitely had his heart set on this dog.</p><p> </p><p>A second day passed. No call, no email. Status the same. Andrew was glum.</p><p> </p><p>Day three, more of the same. Andrew was sad, but he had a meeting with his manager, an interview and no time to fret about the dog. He was gone for a few hours, so you decided to take things into your own hands and call the shelter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>WSPCA: Wicklow SPCA, how can I help you?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Hi, yes, um. My boyfriend and I filled out an application for a dog. We haven’t heard anything for three days. I am wondering if there is a problem? Or is Murphy no longer available?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>WSPCA: Oh. Well, Murphy is available. He is such a sweet lad. Let me check. What is the name on the application?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Andrew. Hozier-Byrne.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>WSPCA: Can you hold for a minute?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Of course.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Some terrible version of Irish muzak started playing in your ear. You started pacing back and forth in the kitchen out of nervousness.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>WSPCA: Yes, hello. I am so, so sorry. We have a young volunteer helping us and she assumed the Hozier application was a prank. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>You don’t know what she said next because you started laughing. You laughed so hard you started crying.</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>I am so sorry. It’s just…that is so funny and I have been so nervous that there was something preventing us from adopting a dog</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The woman on the phone laughed with you. She was very sweet and more than helpful. She wanted you and Andrew to meet Murphy as soon as possible. You made arrangements to see him later this afternoon.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was a bundle of nerves during the drive to Wicklow. He really wanted this dog and was worried that things wouldn’t work out for one reason or the other. His energy was making you uneasy, luckily it was a quick ride.</p><p> </p><p>The woman you spoke with on the phone was named Clare. She let you into the shelter and immediately offered her apologies for the mix up. Andrew said it was a first for him and everyone had a good laugh. She led you to a small room with a bench and told you to wait.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll bring Murphy in to meet you. Hold tight.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew sat on floor. You took your coat off and put it on the bench.</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you sitting on the floor?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I don’t want to tower over him. It might make him nervous.” You joined him on the floor. He took your hand, it was sweaty.</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, it’s going to be fine.” You rubbed his back and waited. A few minutes later you could hear Clare’s voice coming down the hall. The door opened and she walked in with Murphy. He was definitely a Labrador Retriever mixed with something else, but you weren’t sure what it was. His ears and tail were much shaggier than a labs. His different colored eyes really made him stand out.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright. Here you go. Good boy.” Clare took the leash off and patted him affectionately. He stayed by her side and surveyed the two of you. “He can be shy with new people.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi Murphy. I’m Andrew.” That was all it took. The dog trotted over to Andrew and gave him a good sniff. Then he flopped down in his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe it!” Clare was shocked. “He has been seen by a few different families, but he refused to go near them. I guess he was just waiting for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew’s smile lit up the room. He was scratching behind Murphy’s ears and rubbing his belly. The dog was in heaven and so was Andrew. “What do you think Murphy? Do you want to join our family?”</p><p>Murphy started pawing at you. You scratched under his chin. He looked at you with those beautiful eyes and you were under his spell too. You turned to Clare. “So, what do we have to do next to take this guy home with us?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>To be continued…</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Gotcha Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sweet sappy fun. Dogs. Beaches.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So instead of doing work, I wrote this fic. Doing my part for the greater good!!! Be well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adopting Murphy turned out to be a complicated process. There was an application, an application fee and then an interview followed by a home inspection. Once you were approved, Murphy was sent for his procedure to ensure that there would be no little Murphys running around. He had to convalesce and then, he was ready to go to his new home with you.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s his Gotcha Day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>“In America, some people call it a Gotcha Day. The day we got him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh.” Andrew was making you a cappuccino. He had his back to you, but you knew he was furrowing his brow in concentration.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…well, it seems like we might have jumped through as many hoops!” He was lit from within. Ever since meeting Murphy at the shelter, he was like a child during the weeks before Christmas. Excited, impatient and unbearable.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you might be right. So, I went through our list and we have everything except his food.  It was supposed to be delivered yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew sprinkled chocolate on top of your drink and served it to you. “Maybe the shelter can give us some. We can always have a bag sent to them later.” He stood next you waiting for payment. You gladly paid with a kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“Good idea.” You sipped your cappuccino. You were seated at the kitchen island, your day planner, MacBook and paper lists were spread out in front of you.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re picking him up at 2:00?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Can you wait?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” He was blushing and grinning at you. “Ehm…I might as well get to work. See you at lunchtime.” He kissed you and went off to the studio.</p><p> </p><p>You had plenty to keep you busy. In order to get your music therapy license in Ireland, you had to take a couple of classes and pass their boards. So, you went up to your office to work in quiet. The time, surprisingly, flew by. You came down to the kitchen for a quick lunch with Andrew. The two of you were on the road by 1:20 pm. He wanted to leave plenty of time in case there was traffic. He was eager and nervous. So were you.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…do we have his leash and collar?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about a toy for the ride home?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s a dog. I am sure the ride alone will be enough, but there is a bag in the back with toys and treats.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew reached over and squeezed your hand. “I know I am being ridiculous…”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not the only one. I’m the one who packed the bag!!” You started laughing at how silly the two of you were being.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nice though isn’t it? We really are starting to build our life, here in Ireland.” He stole a quick look at you. Your life together in New York was fantastic, but it always felt like a temporary situation. You knew Andrew would want to come back to Ireland eventually, but you were not sure if it was meant for you too. Now, you know.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s wonderful. I am very happy.” You reached over and stroked his cheek. You rode the rest of the way in happy silence, holding hands over the car console.</p><p> </p><p>When you arrived at the shelter everyone was waiting for you. The staff had arranged a little ceremony for Murphy and his new family. It was sweet and so kind. It was a reminder of why your father told you to never trust anyone who didn’t love animals. Because animal lovers are generally good people. Everyone said goodbye to Murphy and before you knew it, you were headed home with your new family member.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p>Someone had to sit in the back with him on the way home. He was so incredibly excited; he couldn’t stay in his seat. Someone had to keep Andrew calm and entertained. So, you found yourself driving the three of you home. After all, Murphy is just a dog and can’t drive.</p><p> </p><p>“Murphy. What a good lad. Yes…You are a good lad!” Andrew was seated in the back; the passenger seat pushed all the way up to accommodate his long legs. Murphy was stretched across the seat, lying on his back, head in Andrew’s lap. He was making a sound like a cat purring.</p><p> </p><p>“No problem, I’m ok. Just driving on the wrong side of the road. No big deal.” You were teasing, sort of. Driving in Ireland was stressful for you. It was difficult to go opposite to your instincts and years of driving. Luckily, Ireland was not particularly crowded and the roads were generally clear.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re grand. Don’t worry.” Andrew was only half paying attention. He was scratching Murphy behind the ears and telling him all about his new home.</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously Byrne?!” It was difficult to be mad at man who was smiling like he was. You could see him in the rearview mirror. He really was happy.</p><p> </p><p>“Murphy, your Mom is mad at me for making her drive. She wanted to cuddle with you on the way home.”</p><p> </p><p>Your stomach did a little flip when he referred to you as Mom.</p><p> </p><p>“So, boys, what about going to the beach for a walk? Andrew, do you have time or do you need to back at home for work?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I am taking the rest of the day off. I think a walk is a grand idea. Honey, do you need directions or are you ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think I remember, thank you.”</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The parking lot at the beach was empty. It was a cold day, but luckily the wind was calm. Andrew had Murphy on his leash, you grabbed a couple of tennis balls out of the bag in the back of the SUV. Murphy saw you put them in your coat pockets and he immediately started barking and jumping.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as you got down on the sand, Andrew took the leash off of Murphy. The dog took off like shot. He ran down into the water and started biting at the waves that were coming in. You handed one of the balls to Andrew. He whistled to get Murphy’s attention and then threw the ball down the beach.</p><p> </p><p>“That is one happy dog! Babe, look at him go.” Murphy was fast. He found the neon yellow ball and trotted back towards you. He dropped it in front of Andrew and started jumping and barking again.</p><p> </p><p>“Here you go lad.” Andrew threw it even farther this time. You continued walking down the beach. “This is so nice. We can do this every day.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know!! I love coming here. I grew up with a beach like this. Lots of rocks and little pools to explore. I forgot how much I missed it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Will I ever get you to swim in it?” He eyed you.</p><p> </p><p>“Probably not. I am a good little Capricorn. You, my love, are a true Pisces.” You were a good swimmer, but it wasn’t your thing. Being near the water was enough for you.</p><p> </p><p>Murphy came back with ball and Andrew threw it again. The three of you made your way down the beach. The sky was a steely grey and the water was a swirl of blue, green and white. All you could hear was the crashing of the waves and Murphy’s bark. It felt like you were the only two people in the world.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you Honey.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever for?” You slid your arm around Andrew’s waist.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…well, for moving to Ireland and for Murphy. It was your idea to get a dog.” Murphy was chasing a gull. “For everything.” He stopped you then and took your face in his hands. He kissed you deeply. Everything about him felt so incredibly warm in the cold sea air. He pulled you inside his coat and kissed your head gently. Suddenly, Murphy pushed himself in between the two of you. His tail was going a mile a minute. You both laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright Murph. We love you too.” Andrew patted him on the head. “Should we head back?</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>The three of you made your way back to the car. Murphy was sloppy and wet; Andrew threw an old blanket down on the backseat for him. He curled up on it, tennis ball in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>You handed Andrew the keys. “Do you mind driving? I can’t think about it anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” He opened the door for you. You hopped in and buckled your seatbelt. Andrew leaned in and kissed you. “Let’s go home.”</p><p> </p><p>The ride back to the house was quiet. The sun was low in sky and the clouds were colored in shades of pink. You thought about all of the moments to come and felt a spark of joy. Contentment was at hand.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Murphy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daily life. Daily love.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In your office/music room you have a pink couch. Not bright pink, but rather a dusty rose with a grey undertone to it. The upholstery feels like velvet, but is much easier to clean. It has a mid-century modern style with a low profile and clean lines. You chose it not only for how it looks, but because it is very comfortable for relaxing and reading.</p><p>The morning was busy, but also very productive. You got all of your practicing done and finished a paper that was due at the end of the week. Now you were stretched out on your pink couch, reading your assigned chapters for class. Murphy had jumped up to be with you and was wedged in between you and the back of the couch. He was snoring lightly.</p><p>“There you are!” Andrew was standing in the doorway with a big smile on his face.</p><p>You put your textbook down and smiled back at him. “Hi! How is your day going?”</p><p>He immediately froze and looked at you with an embarrassed expression. “Ehm…”</p><p>You tilted your head to the side. “What? Oh…I get it. You were looking for Murphy!” Andrew just stood there, like a child getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar who thinks that if he doesn’t move, no one will see him. “You know I can see you, right?”</p><p>“Ehm…I…ehm…I am in a lot of trouble, aren’t I?” Murphy popped his head up; his dog tags made a jingly sound.</p><p>“Well, if this situation were reversed, how would you feel?” Truthfully, you didn’t care. It was adorable that he loved the dog so much, but no reason to let him off the hook so quickly.</p><p>Andrew started rubbing his collarbone. “I’m so sorry. I would probably feel awful.” Now you felt bad. You were just about to come clean when he said, “But…you are hogging the dog!”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I said, you’re hogging the dog. He’s always with you. Are you sneaking bacon to him?”</p><p>“Do you think I would bribe our dog with bacon? Wait, do you think I need to bribe our dog with bacon? Maybe he just likes hanging out with me?” </p><p>One corner of Andrews mouth turned up and then the other. “I can’t do it. I can’t tease you.” He walked over to you, leaned down and kissed your forehead. “But he has been ignoring me. I am developing a complex!”</p><p>When Murphy first joined your family, he followed Andrew like a shadow. His favorite spot was laying under the piano bench, using one of Andrew’s socked feet for a pillow. But the last month he was stuck to you like glue. You really hadn’t thought about it, but now that Andrew mentioned it, you were aware.</p><p>“Babe, come sit with us.” You sat up and made room, Murphy made no such effort. Andrew squeezed himself into the corner. “I’m sorry. I really hadn’t noticed. My focus has been squarely on my studies.” You reached out and stroked his cheek.</p><p>Andrew smiled at you. “I know I am being overly sensitive. It’s just that ever since I got back from London, he has been ignoring me completely.” Right on cue, Murphy changed positions and put his head in your lap. You started stroking it gently. </p><p>“Since London?”</p><p>“Ehm…yeah.” </p><p>Andrew had gone to London for work. He was away for 6 days; it must have felt like an eternity to a dog.</p><p>“Babe, maybe he feels a little abandoned by you. After all, he was on the streets. We have no idea what he has been through.” Murphy nuzzled your hand; the tip of his tail was tapping his approval.</p><p>Andrew’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I think you’re right.” He let out a long breath. “What’s going to happen when I go back out on tour and I am gone for weeks….months?” He worried at his lip.</p><p>“Are you going out on tour soon? Has something changed?” Touring was important for a couple of reasons. First, musicians need to play, it’s what they do. Second, touring is what pays the bills. In the digital age, tours were the money-makers, not copyrights or record deals.  </p><p>“Ehm…nothing has changed with the timeline. I just don’t know how I am going to balance it all this next time…you, Murphy…my parents.” He scrubbed at his face. “Things are so different now.”</p><p>Andrew’s phone started ringing from his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the caller id. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He disappeared to his studio for the rest of the day and into the night. You only saw him long enough to say good night before you and Murphy went to bed.<br/>
-----</p><p>The next day you had class followed by a study session with some classmates. Last night, you reached out to a friend and made plans to meet at a pub in the afternoon. Admittedly, you were trying to stay out for the whole day. Maybe if you weren’t around, the boys would reconnect.</p><p>You were getting ready to go when Andrew came downstairs into the kitchen to say goodbye. He was still sleepy-eyed and warm. </p><p>“Hey. Have a good day.” He pulled you into his arms and kissed you. Murphy came over from his bed and wedged himself between the two of you, at this point you were used to it.</p><p>“I thought it was a grand day?” You buried your nose in his chest. He had that ineffable scent that was completely him…soap, warmth and sea.</p><p>He was using your head as a pillow. “I’m too tired to argue.” He kissed you again and let you go. </p><p>You grabbed your bags and travel mug. “Oh, I almost forgot!! Here.” You handed him a sandwich bag filled with freshly cooked bacon. Murphy started barking and jumping in a circle.</p><p>He cocked one eyebrow, “Ehm, are you telling me to bribe our dog?”</p><p>“No. I am telling you to use positive reinforcement. It’s called operant conditioning. See you tonight.”<br/>
----</p><p>The day flew by. Class was great. You were always a good student and avid learner, so you were in your comfort zone. One of your classmates had started a study group for the certification test. You met weekly and the support and friendship you found was wonderful. After group, you met an old friend of yours from school. She had married an Irishman and was now living and working outside of Dublin. You spent the afternoon chatting in the pub.</p><p>It was late when you pulled into the driveway. The sky was getting dark and there was a raw chill in the air. When you got out of your car, you could smell the smoke from the fireplace. Andrew had started a fire and it smelled of peat and earth. You slipped in the back door and left your coat, shoes and bag by the coatrack.</p><p>You found Andrew in the living room, stretched out by the fire. He was reading a book. John Coltrane was on the record player. Murphy was laying across Andrew’s legs, snoring rather loudly.</p><p>Andrew brightened when he saw you come in. “Hey! How was your day?” </p><p>“Good. Busy! It was nice catching up with my ex-pat friend. How about you?” You sat on the ottoman.</p><p>“Well, the bacon was very helpful. Thank you.” You looked at Murphy, he was having a dream. His back legs were twitching.</p><p>“You’re welcome.” Andrew’s hair was completely out of control. “Did you two go to beach?”</p><p>“Yes!! We went for a long walk and a very quick swim. It was cold.” His voice was soft and low. You could drown in it. “Murphy seems more like himself.”</p><p>You smiled. “I’m glad of that… It will be ok, you know.”</p><p>“Yeah?” He looked anxious.</p><p>“Yes. I’m sure of it.”</p><p>Andrew looked at you for a while. “The stakes seem so high these days.”</p><p>He was definitely worrying about the next phase of things. His habit was to hold things inside and stew. Andrew never wanted to let anyone down and his personal and professional standards were extremely high. </p><p>You leaned forward and took his face in your hands. “Well, they are, but it’s only because your life is so full now and that is definitely a good thing.” He smiled at you; then he took your hands and kissed them. </p><p>The rest of the night was spent eating leftovers by the fire and watching bad tv. Later, when you were in bed and Murphy was in his crate, Andrew whispered to you, “Honey…I love the way things are. I don’t want you to think that I regret anything.” </p><p>You were tucked into the crook of his neck. His voice washed over your body. “I didn’t think that.”</p><p>“No? Good.”</p><p>“I just wish…” You stopped yourself.</p><p>“Wish what?” He squeezed your arm.</p><p>You sat up and turned towards Andrew. The lights were out and you could barely make out his face in the dark. Out in the country there was no ambient light to speak of. You placed your hand on his chest. His heart thumped under your fingers and you always loved the way it felt.</p><p>“Babe, you get stuck in your head…a lot. I know you worry. I know that you do not have a quiet mind. I just want you to enjoy yourself. And let the people in your life help you…let me help you. We are in this together. Ok?”</p><p>He slid his hand around your waist and squeezed. “Ok.”</p><p>“And for the record, I knew what I was getting myself into. I’m very, very happy. No matter  what challenges come along, as long as we are together, we will be fine. I love you, Andrew. More than you could ever know.” His heart was pounding under your hand. He pulled you down next to him and wrapped you up in his arms. </p><p>“Oh my love, my love.” He kissed you over and over. “I love you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. London Calling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>London. Love. Fun.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>London</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew was working on his next album. He had several sessions scheduled at a London studio where he has recorded in the past. This week he was going for the final 3 days and you were tagging along with him. He had wanted you to go on the last trip, but you had an exam that you couldn’t miss. You would make up for lost time now. Jon, Andrew’s brother, was house and dog sitting for you. Murphy loved him and Jon lavished the dog with attention, so nothing to worry about there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The flight from Dublin to London is incredibly short. You spend more time in security, waiting in lines and getting your luggage than the actual flight. Not that you were complaining. It meant more time with your lovely, Irish lad. He was pretty wired on the plane. Most of his time was spent going over notes in his journal and listening to his musical notes on his phone. He kept apologizing for being poor company. You assured him that he was just fine and so were you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Caroline heard you were tagging along for this trip, she had Andrew’s room upgraded to a suite with a soaking tub and balcony (You love that woman!).The hotel was just off Trafalgar Square in the heart of the city. It was a great location for you to walk to museums and shops and a quick cab ride to the studio for Andrew.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was late in the afternoon when you arrived at the hotel. Andrew wanted to go to the studio to make sure the guitars were all set up for him and to talk to his producer about some last-minute details. Caroline was taking everyone out for dinner tonight. So, you planned to meet Andrew at the hotel bar later for a drink or two and then head to the restaurant together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a gorgeous, cool day in London and the sun was out. So, you grabbed your camera and went for a walk. The city has so many incredible buildings and statues to photograph, not to mention some of the best people watching in the world. Your very first trip to London was with your parents and brothers. You were just a little child at the time, but you remember it very well. The Tower of London was a favorite of the whole family. The boys loved the knights armor collection and you loved the Queen’s Royal jewelry collection. If you had time on this trip, you wanted to go back and see everything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a long walk, you headed back to the hotel and had a long soak in the tub. You had purchased a new dress for the occasion; it was time to wear something other than yoga pants and t-shirts. The fabric had a red floral pattern with cap sleeves and a wrap waist. You bought a pair of strappy red sandals to go with it. Hair styled, make-up refreshed and dress on, you headed downstairs to meet Andrew.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>According to the brochure in your room, the hotel bar had been recently renovated. It was done in an art deco meets botanical style. There were soft brass accents, velvet banquettes and small trees throughout. You took a seat at the long, marble bar and saved the seat next to you for Andrew. The bartender gave you a cocktail menu and a glass of water. Your phone buzzed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>In the room…where are you</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Downstairs in the bar</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sorry...be there soon</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>You ordered a blackberry gin smash from the menu and a Jameson, neat, for Andrew. Just after the drinks came, he arrived.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry I’m late. I got caught up and lost track of time.” He leaned down to kiss you. “I know that’s shocking to you.” He stopped dead in his tracks. “Wow, you look…ehm…your dress…you’re absolutely gorgeous.” You were definitely blushing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You changed.” He was wearing a soft green cashmere sweater that you gave him for Christmas. It had a V-neck and was sized to fit him perfectly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, yeah. Is it ok?” You moved your wrap and clutch from the barstool; Andrew sat down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could wear a paper bag and look good. “You look very handsome. Let’s toast. To the new album.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Slainte.” You clinked glasses. “Honey, what are you drinking?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s the special. A blackberry gin smash. Do you want to try it?” You offered him the glass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He smiled at you. “No, thank you. I better be good tonight. I have a lot of singing tomorrow. Thank you for the whiskey. I’ll definitely drink this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Irish singer needs an Irish whiskey. So how was the studio? Did everything get here from Dublin?” There was a cache of guitars, basses, percussion instruments and an old electric organ that had been shipped over for the sessions. The organ had been set up in the dining room for the better part of the year. Andrew played Christmas carols on it after the family dinner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. Thankfully everything made it. Murt was already taking care things when I got there.” Andrew was pulling at his sleeves and biting his lip. He was a bundle of nerves and energy. You took his left hand into your lap and started to rub the inside of his wrist gently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Murt is the best. He will have everything ready to go for tomorrow. Is there anything else that needs to be done?” You slid his sleeve up and softly massage his forearm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. Everything is ready to go.” He dropped his head slightly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, you can relax tonight?” You gave him a knowing look. He nodded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You used your thumb to push down on a knot in his muscle. It was from playing guitar; you frequently got the same thing. He let out a deep breath. “That feels fantastic.” His breathing slowed down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Other arm?” You stole a quick sip of your drink. Andrew slid his barstool closer to yours</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, please.” He gave you his other hand and you slowly repeated the process. The tension visibly drained from his shoulders and his face softened. “Thank you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re welcome.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The bar was busy with tourists and locals. It was noisy enough to give you a bit of privacy, but quiet enough so that you could have a conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Honey, thank you for coming on this trip. It means a lot to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My pleasure. Anything to support you. And I love London…so it’s not a giant sacrifice.” You winked at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you going to come to the studio at all?” He took a sip of his whiskey.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know. Did you want me to come over?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. Ehm…no. Maybe?” Andrew tilted his head. He was going over it in his mind. You could read him like a book. “I’m not sure.” His brows were furrowed together and looked more confused than ever.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I have plenty of things to keep me busy, but if you want me to come listen for a bit, text me. I’ll just grab a cab.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t mean to be all over the place. It’s just.” He paused and looked at you. “I want to impress you, I guess. You have such great musical taste… I just want you to be proud.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Your mouth was dry and your heart was pounding. You were close to tears. “Oh Andrew, that’s …that’s the sweetest thing…thank you. And I <em>am</em> proud of you for so many reasons.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. Then, he whispered in your ear. “Thank you, my love.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both of your phones chimed. It was a text from Caroline with directions to the restaurant.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm…we should probably head out. I’ll get the tab.” Andrew flagged down the barman and paid the bill.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You swiped a bit of lipstick and checked your face in your compact.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t bother. You’re already beautiful.” He was smiling sweetly. “Ready?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You took his hand and stepped out into the night and another adventure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. London-Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Late night talks. Room service morning.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>London-Part 2</p><p>It was just after midnight and you were halfway to sleep when your phone buzzed. It was Andrew. He was on his way back to the hotel. You had asked him to let you know, so you wouldn’t be startled when the door opened.</p><p>He slipped in so quietly, you never even heard the door, but he spoke softly. “It’s just me.” He came over to you and gave you a quick kiss. “I’m going to take a hot shower.”</p><p>His words only partially registered. You were so tired from walking all day and you had gotten into the habit of being up early because of school and Murphy. So, midnight felt like the edge of nowhere.</p><p>You woke up when he got into bed and slid next to you. He wasn’t wearing anything and his skin was hot from the shower. You rolled over, tucked your head into the crook of his neck and wrapped your arm around his waist. Usually a long, hot shower would help him wind down, but he was strung tight as a bow. The energy vibrated off of him.</p><p>“Ehm, are you sleeping?” He started playing with your hair.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“But you’re talking.”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>He started shifting a little, working his way into the pillows and adjusting the blankets.<br/>“Today was incredible. We got so much work done. I can’t wait for you to hear it.”</p><p>“hmm…”</p><p>“We finished with all of Alex’s stuff today.”</p><p>You squeezed him lightly.</p><p>“Tomorrow I need to get the organ parts down. Three songs are ready for finishing touches with Rob…there are a couple of guitar parts I might redo…maybe not…maybe I’m being too picky?”</p><p>He was not going to sleep any time soon. So that meant neither were you.</p><p>“Too picky? ” Your face was smooshed into his skin, but he heard you anyway.</p><p>“I thought you were sleeping.”</p><p>“Don’t be a wise-ass Byrne.”</p><p>He started laughing. “Oh honey, get up. I’ll make it worth your while.”</p><p>“You mean you’ll make it worth <em>your</em> while!”</p><p>At that he guffawed and rolled you over underneath him. He attacked your neck and your lips. You finally opened your eyes and looked at him. Even in the dark, his smile was luminous and his eyes bright. You slid your hands into his hair, it was damp from the shower.</p><p>“What am I going to do with you?” You traced his lips with your thumb.</p><p>He arched his brow and rolled his hips into you. “Oh, I have a whole list of ideas.”</p><p>You ran your hand down his body, found the right spot and gave him a little jolt. “Ok Byrne…you sing a good game. Show me what you got!”</p><p>And so, he did.</p><p>---<br/>The morning came too early and too fast. Andrew ordered room service and you hopped in the shower while he waited for the food to arrive. The water pressure was fantastic and the temperature was steaming hot. It felt great on your sore muscles.</p><p>“Hey. Just me with your coffee. I’ll leave it on the sink.”</p><p>“Oh god, I love you. Thanks.”</p><p>“The food looks good. Don’t wait too long!!” He left and closed the door.</p><p>Knowing Andrew and his appetite, you didn’t wait. You finished your shower, put your wet hair up in a bun and donned one of the luxurious white robes the hotel provided.</p><p>Breakfast was set on a linen-covered table where Andrew was sitting reading his journal. He was wearing pajama pants and a Beatles t-shirt. His hair was scraped back into a ponytail with several curls sticking out in defiance and his glasses were carefully perched on his nose.</p><p>He gave you the sweetest smile. “Good morning.” He took the mug you were carrying and refilled it from the carafe.</p><p>“Thank you.” You sat across from him. There were several plates on the table that were covered with silver lids and glasses filled with water and juice. “Did you order the whole menu?” Andrew was, generally speaking, a very healthy eater. He had a sweet tooth for sure, but he always ate his fruit and veggies first. Breakfast was usually oats with fruit and nuts.</p><p>“I couldn’t decide. Besides, I figured we worked up quite an appetite.” He started taking the covers off of the dishes. He had ordered eggs, toast, French toast, home fries, fruit, yogurt, bacon, sausages and scones.</p><p>You blushed. “Well, I can’t fault your logic.” You pilfered a piece of bacon. He started with the eggs. “Do you have a scarf I can borrow?”</p><p>“Ehm…yeah. Why?” He started piling food on your plate.</p><p>You opened the top part of your robe to expose the marks he left last night. His eyebrows shot up and he started laughing. “Oh honey. I’m sorry. I forget how easily your skin gets marked.”</p><p>“See, you say you’re sorry, but I think you’re pretty pleased with yourself.”</p><p>He was chewing on a piece of toast. “Ehm, you seemed pretty pleased overall last night…so…” He was trying not to giggle. You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Honey, tell me about yesterday. I want to hear everything.”</p><p>“Well…I ended up taking that yoga class I found. It was really good. I need to find a good class when we get back home…I went to the Victoria and Albert Museum. They have some really interesting collections.” You slathered an embarrassing amount of jam on your scone.</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“They have some of DaVinci’s notebooks. They are really small, little books, but they are filled with notes and sketches. Also, he wrote in mirror image and no one is really sure why?”</p><p>“Really? How interesting.”</p><p>“There is an enormous collection of china…I mean dinnerware…oh, and teapots. Only the Brits.” You downed the last of your scone.</p><p>Andrew laughed. “Definitely not an American thing.”</p><p>“No. The photography collection is wonderful. I could have spent a lot more time there. Maybe I will go back today for a bit.”</p><p>“Ehm…how was your dinner?”</p><p>Your friend and former coworker, Matt, is in London on vacation. You met up for dinner and drinks last night. “Fantastic. I got to meet Matt’s new beau. He is super nice. His name is Scott. They say hello by the way.”</p><p>Andrew quirked an eyebrow. “New <em>beau</em>?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Must be serious if they are on vacation together?” He started on the bacon.</p><p>“Not necessarily.” You tucked your legs underneath you and sipped your coffee. “Matt moves fast which has been his downfall. He is a total romantic.”</p><p>“Hmm…I am familiar with the type.” He bit into a piece of French toast.</p><p>“So what time are you heading over to the studio?”</p><p>“Ehm…probably around 11:00. The rest of the crew are coming at 1:00.” Musicians were never known to be morning people.</p><p>“Are you going to redo the guitar solos?”</p><p>“Maybe. I’m not sure.” He started rubbing his hands together.</p><p>You went over to him and sat in his lap. “Don’t overthink it. Go with your gut and remember no one is as picky as you are.” He nodded his head. “Besides, music needs to feel spontaneous, alive…changing. You know what I mean?”</p><p>“I do.” He smirked. “Thank you. You always know what to say.”</p><p>He kissed you deeply.</p><p>“Ehm, I still have an hour. Can I help you burn off some of these calories?”</p><p>You giggled. “Why Mr. Byrne…what did you have in mind?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Work Trip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dogs, Beaches. Love across the miles.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So instead of watching election results, I wrote this. Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the first official work trip for Andrew. He had gone to London a few times to record. One time you tagged along and went sightseeing and shopping. The other times you stayed home and kept the home fires burning. This trip was different. He was going to the States to promote his upcoming album and subsequent tour. There were stops planned for NYC and LA. He was  also going to perform on a couple of talk shows. He wanted you to come with him, but you declined. The schedule was jam-packed and you had school and Murphy.</p><p> </p><p>The car service came early in the morning. The team was flying out on a private jet and the plan was to hit the ground running. The driver waited by car while you said goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>“I still wish you were coming with me.” Andrew had your face cupped in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>You smiled at him. “I know, but this is a crazy one. Maybe on the next trip.” Murphy was wedged between the two of you, per usual. He was anxious.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew let out a breath. “I hate this…leaving you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, but think of all of the fun we’ll have when you get back.” You slid your hands into his back pockets and rested your head against his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not helping me to go!”</p><p> </p><p>You extricated yourself from him. “You have to go! You don’t want to be late.” He finally smiled at you. He started kissing your face and neck.</p><p> </p><p>“They’ll wait. They can’t do the tour without me!”</p><p> </p><p>“What a diva! Listen, have a wonderful time and send me lots of texts and videos. I love you.” You kissed him. He held on to you and took in your scent. Then he said goodbye to Murphy and got into the car.</p><p>---</p><p>You didn’t have time to miss Andrew yet, you were too busy. You took Murphy to the beach for an extra-long walk. Went to class, wrote a paper while hanging out the library and met up with a friend for tea. For dinner, you invited a couple of classmates over to the house and grilled some steaks. You served apple crisp for dessert.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew called you at 11:00 pm Dublin time.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” His voice was so velvety.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, where are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, in a cab heading downtown. We’re on our way to the event with Spotify.”</p><p> </p><p>“They are going to love the new music, Babe. I know it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hope you are right. How are you? How was your day?”</p><p> </p><p>“It was good. I’m in bed now. Murphy is eyeing your side by the way.” Murphy had his head resting on the mattress. He was trying to sneak onto the bed, but you had his number.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew laughed. “Can you blame the lad?” Someone in the car was talking to Andrew. It was probably Caroline. “Ehm…I have to go. We are almost there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. I am going to sleep anyway. Baby, have a wonderful time. This is what you live for.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause on the line. “Not the only thing.”</p><p> </p><p>Your heart flipped. “I love you too. Good night.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>The following day you got up early. Your phone was filled with texts from Andrew and members of the team. You made yourself a latte and sat down at the kitchen island to read and watch everything. It seemed like the press events went really well. There was a fan meet and greet and Andrew looked so happy and content in the video Caroline sent. He really had grown into this part of the work and you could see a new confidence in him.</p><p> </p><p>Murphy was pacing around the kitchen. He could hear Andrew’s voice, but obviously couldn’t find him. He was crying and you hated seeing him so distressed.</p><p> </p><p>“Aw. Murphy my love. It’s ok.” You sat down on the floor and he crawled into your lap. You started rubbing behind his ears. “He’ll be home soon enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Later that afternoon Andrew called.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you miss me yet?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe. Your dog definitely does. He heard your voice on the video Caroline sent. Poor thing was going crazy trying to find you!”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop. You’re breaking my heart. Where is he now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Curled up with me on the couch. I’m in my music room. What are you up to now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…breakfast in the room. We head out in an hour. I wanted to catch up with you before my day got away from me.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, how did it go yesterday?”</p><p> </p><p>“The Spotify event went well. People seem to really like the EP. We tape Letterman today.” He sounded anxious.</p><p> </p><p>“Please tell me you’re having fun?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am. It’s just…ehm, I guess you never get over the nerves! Do you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, but listen to me…you’ll be grand!!”</p><p> </p><p>He started laughing. “You’re sounding more Irish than me.” It was good to hear him laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“So, this is quite the switch?” Murphy nuzzled his snout into you.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re in New York and I am in Ireland.” </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t even think of that.”</p><p> </p><p>“No?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, it just seems like you have always belonged in Ireland.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a lump forming in your throat.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate to do this, but I need to get going. You know…brush my teeth…do something with this mane. I <em>miss</em> you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you. Now, go break a leg.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>The rest of the week was uneventful. During the day, you kept to your routine and went to class. It was opportunity to get things done and spend time, in-person and virtual, with your friends and family. The nights were a different story. You felt perfectly safe in the house, but it felt empty. It was difficult to sleep and you tossed and turned. Not even sleeping in his clothes helped. You <em>missed</em> him terribly. The two of you had been living together for so long now, that you forgot what it was like to be alone.</p><p> </p><p>Towards the end of the week, after finishing some work, you headed to the beach to walk the dog. There were several cars in the parking lot and people were coming up from the beach. You opened the back of Andrew’s SUV and Murphy hopped out. He bristled with excitement. It was a beautiful, clear day; perfect for a walk.</p><p> </p><p>You took hold of his leash and started walking down to the beach. An older gentleman was making his way towards you with two gorgeous golden retrievers. They were joy personified. One of them looked just like your childhood dog, Bailey. Murphy was excited to see them and he started barking. Next thing you knew, Murphy and the two dogs were tangled up and you were smack dab in the middle of the chaos. Someone’s leash wrapped around your right leg and you were yanked to ground; you fell hard on the pavement. The only thing that kept you from smashing your head even harder was your hand breaking your fall.</p><p> </p><p>The older gentleman was horrified. He tried to untangle the dogs who were excitedly barking and trying to lick you as you laid on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“I, I think my wrist is broken.” You sat up and cradled your left arm. The pain was white hot and it shot up your arm, your head was throbbing too.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. So sorry.” He was trying to help you up. There was a flurry of activity. Some passersby stopped to help. They got the dogs under control and helped you to your car. You opened the back tailgate with the remote key and sat down.</p><p> </p><p>A young mother wearing her child in a baby carrier came over. “Hi, I’m a nurse. Can I help you?” You nodded yes. She looked at your wrist; it was swollen and starting to bruise. “You definitely need an x-ray.” She started gently prodding your head. “You might have a concussion too. Let me see your eyes.” You looked directly at her. “Is there someone with you? I don’t think you should drive like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Just my silly dog.” Murphy had jumped into the back of the car and was laying with his head in your lap.</p><p> </p><p>The nurse’s baby was wearing a knit hat that looked like a strawberry. She started to fuss in the carrier. “I’m sorry. I need to feed this one. Can I give you a lift to the hospital?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no. Thank you. You’ve done so much. I have someone I can call.”</p><p> </p><p>She was holding your good wrist and checking your pulse. “Maybe I should wait with you until your ride comes?”</p><p> </p><p>The older gentleman spoke up. “I’ll stay with the lass ‘til her husband comes.”</p><p> </p><p>Husband. If he only knew. You called Jon, Andrew’s brother. They were close in age, close in height and shared a similar intellect and humor. Jon’s passion was film and he was having a great deal of success with it in Ireland. Where Andrew is tall and slim, Jon is tall and broad. They both had ginger beards and gentle eyes like their Mom. You called his number and got his voicemail. So, you texted him <em>911. Need help</em>. He called you back immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened? Are you ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi. Sorry to bother you. I took a bit of tumble and need to go the hospital. Unfortunately, I can’t drive and I have the dog with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“The beach by Andrew’s house. In the parking lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. I’m on my way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks Jon.”</p><p>----</p><p>He must have broken the speed limit to get there, because before you knew it, Jon was there to rescue you. He took one look at you and shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“You look like you’ve gone ten rounds with Conor McGregor.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gee thanks Jon. You sure know how to sweet talk a girl.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who did this to you?”</p><p> </p><p>You turned your gaze to Murphy, who groaned in response. “There was a bunch of dogs and me at the bottom of the pile.”</p><p> </p><p>The look on his face was priceless. “I’m going to need more details than that, but let’s get you to the hospital first.”</p><p> </p><p>Jon corralled you and Murphy into the car. He drove back to the house and took care of the dog. Then you headed to the hospital. On the way you had him stop the car, you had to throw up. So, you opened the door, leaned out and got sick. Jon was so kind and helped you pull it together after.</p><p> </p><p>In Ireland, they call the ER the A&amp;E (accident &amp; emergency), but otherwise it was what you were used to back in the States. You had to wait a little bit, but they triaged you quickly and got you into a room. The doctor sent you for x-rays and you were now waiting for the results and the doctor.</p><p> </p><p>The nurse gave you a little something for the pain and packed your wrist in ice to get the swelling down and did the same for your head. Jon was sitting in a rather uncomfortable-looking chair next to your gurney. He was trying to keep your mood light with jokes and stories, including some about a young Andrew. You were resting your eyes when he spoke up.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want me to call Andy or do you want to do it?”</p><p> </p><p>“What? No. I don’t want him to know. He is almost done with the trip. Why bother him with this? It’s not like he can do anything from LA.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know my brother. He is going to want to know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jon, <em>please</em>, don’t say anything.”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned forward in his chair, reached out and placed his large hand on your arm. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want to tell him?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s busy with work and he was so nervous about it…the album, the press tour, the meet and greets. I don’t want to be a distraction.”</p><p> </p><p>“He would never see it that way.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Please</em> Jon. This is between Andrew and me.”</p><p> </p><p>Jon looked at you for a while with the same sweet eyes as Andrew, then he shook his head. “Ok. I won’t say anything, but I still think it is a mistake.” He squeezed your arm gently.</p><p> </p><p>Later they discharged you from the hospital with a cast, some appointments and medication. Jon brought you home and stayed with you. He set up in the dining room and worked on editing a project. Andrew’s mom came by to check on you and deliver some homecooked goodness. Between the concussion and the drugs, you were a little confused, so it could have been 2 days or 2 weeks that you were in their care. You were endlessly grateful for them.</p><p>-----</p><p>It felt like Christmas day. Andrew was coming home. His plane was supposed to land around 6:00 pm and you could hardly contain your excitement. Jon suggested a movie marathon to help pass the time. You got to movie number two before falling asleep on the couch.</p><p>When you woke up, you heard voices in the kitchen. Andrew was home and you could tell that he and Jon were fighting.</p><p> </p><p>“Jon, when did this happen? Where did she fall?”</p><p> </p><p>“She fell in the parking lot at the beach. The dog’s leash tripped her up. It was a couple of days ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“A couple of <em>days</em> ago?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“How could you not tell me? Really Jon? If it were you, wouldn’t you want to know?” Andrew was very upset.</p><p> </p><p>“I understand, I do.” Jon’s voice was calm.</p><p> </p><p>“Christ, I’ve been playing the star while she’s in the hospital.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was a few hours in the A&amp;E. She’s pretty tough.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fecking wonderful…you just don’t understand Jon. You don’t!” Andrew was getting more agitated by the moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Andy, lower your voice. You’re going to wake her up.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m already awake. What’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was standing by the sink. His arms were wrapped around himself and his body was vibrating with tension. Jon was sitting at the island. His hands were folded in front of him; his mug of tea still steaming. Both men looked at you with surprise. Then Andrew came over to you and cradled your face in his hands. “How are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“Better now. I missed you.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was scanning your face, he winced when he looked at your bruise.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I am going to head out.” Jon got up from his seat. He looked at you. “Are you ok? Don’t forget your painkillers.”  </p><p> </p><p>“I’m good. How can I ever thank you?”</p><p> </p><p>Jon gave you a tender smile. “You just did. Besides, you’re family.” He looked at Andrew. “We’ll talk later?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew nodded at him. “Of course. Thank you, Jon.” His shoulders were slumped, his head low.</p><p> </p><p>Jon pet Murphy and then he was out the door in a flash. Andrew looked sullen.</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, don’t be mad at him. I told him not to say anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s my brother. He should have told me.” He brushed your hair behind your ear.</p><p> </p><p>“I told you, it was my decision. Now kiss me.” He did. “I want to hear everything.” You slid your one good arm around his waist.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me see your wrist…please.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine. Can we talk about it later? I want to hear about your trip.”</p><p> </p><p>“No…now, what did the doctor say?” His voice was firm, but gentle.</p><p> </p><p>You pulled away from him and sat down at the island. “This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew tipped his head. “What?” He crossed his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“My silly fall overshadowing your trip and your success. I’m fine. Really. Just sore and embarrassed.” Murphy was pacing back and forth between the two of you, whining.</p><p> </p><p>“Well it’s not silly to me. It’s not a small thing to me!” He was getting more and more upset. Murphy kept pushing at him with his snout.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I really thought I was doing the right thing… I’m just trying to be supportive.” Murphy was nudging you now.</p><p> </p><p>“My career isn’t more important than you. I hope you know that.” Murphy started barking at Andrew and wouldn’t stop. He looked at you. “When was the last time he went out?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. Jon was taking care of him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok Murphy. It’s ok. I’ll take him out.” Andrew grabbed the leash and clipped it onto Murphy’s collar. “Will you be alright while I’m gone?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Be careful.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will.” He kissed your forehead and headed out.</p><p> </p><p>They were gone for a while. You know how Andrew operates; he was probably turning everything over in his mind. The pain medication you took earlier had kicked in and you were feeling a little dopey. So, you went back up to the bedroom and slipped into bed. Andrew’s words rang through your head <em>My career isn’t more important than you</em>.</p><p> </p><p>You were dozing when you heard the back door close. Murphy came trotting up the stairs and into the bedroom. He came over to your side of the bed, put his head on the mattress and looked up at you. You patted his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you have a good walk, Murph?”</p><p> </p><p>“We did.” Andrew was standing in the doorway. His cheeks were pink from the cold, he was rubbing his hands together.</p><p> </p><p>Murphy went into his crate, turned around three times and flopped down with a huff. Andrew came and sat next to you on the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you tired Honey?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Sorry. The medication makes me so dopey.”</p><p> </p><p>He kissed you and tucked the blankets around you. “Go to sleep, my love.”</p><p>----</p><p>You woke a few hours later. Your wrist was aching, your head was pounding and it was impossible to get comfortable. The clock said it was 2:00 am. You carefully rolled onto your back.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew whispered. “Are you in pain?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”   </p><p> </p><p>Andrew slid over next to you. He caressed your head, careful of the large bruise on your forehead.</p><p> </p><p>“What can I do for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you get me my pain medication, please? It’s in the kitchen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, I’ll be right back.” He kissed you gently and disappeared into the darkness of the room. He came back a few minutes later and turned on one of the nightstand lights. You tried to sit up so you could take your pills.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, let me help you.” He adjusted the pillows for you. Then he handed you your medicine and a glass of water. You took everything.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” You gave him the glass and he put it on the nightstand. He sat on the bed and took your hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm...I’m sorry for overreacting this afternoon.” He was rubbing circles on your skin with his thumb. “I came into the living room to see you. You were still sleeping…when I saw the bruises on your face and the cast.” He shook his head and swallowed. “I <em>hate</em> that something happened to you and I couldn’t be here to take care of you.” He took a deep breath. “And I think of…I think of all the times that you would have needed someone. How you suffered in silence…It breaks my heart.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh God. He was talking about your college boyfriend.</p><p> </p><p>“So, please, <em>please</em>, don’t leave me in the dark. I know you meant well, but just tell me the truth, no matter what.” He was close to tears now and so were you.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” You were gutted; you never meant to hurt him.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, what did the doctor say about your wrist?”</p><p> </p><p>“I got lucky. It’s a simple fracture. I have a follow up appointment with a specialist this week. Maybe you can come with me?” Your voice was shaky.</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely. And your head?”</p><p> </p><p>“Concussion.”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a long breath. “Oh honey.” He stroked your cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so glad you’re home. Promise me you’ll tell me everything tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“I promise. Now let’s try to get some sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew slid under the covers next to you. Then you got on your side, put your broken wrist on his chest and tucked your head into his neck. He was finally home.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Tell me about the night you met</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Meeting Andrew for the first time.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dublin was as fun and exciting as you hoped it would be. You had always wanted to see it. So, when Rachel invited you to visit her, you did not hesitate. She had been here for over a month rehearsing and getting ready for the tour. You had a conference in London in a few days, so this was a quick stopover.</p><p> </p><p>The two of you caught with each other and did a bit of hiking and sightseeing. Today was a rehearsal day and you sat in for most of it. Everyone in the band and on the team was kind, friendly and talented. Rachel asked you take notes for her and keep an ear on her parts. She was always a perfectionist and so were you. Back in college, you always helped each other and gave honest, detailed critiques and today was no different. So, you sat in the back of the audience and got to work. At the first break, she came and sat with you and went over your notes. There were just a couple, mostly about the balance between her and the other background vocalist. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hozier heading over to where you were sitting.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” He was taller than you had imagined. His chestnut locks were pulled back in a bun and he was wearing glasses that made him look more like a math tutor than a rock star. He had on a Mavis Staples shirt and a scarf wrapped around his neck. “Is this your friend? From college?” His speaking voice was surprisingly high for a baritone, but sweet and lush.</p><p> </p><p>You stood up and introduced yourself.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, Rachel has told us a lot about you. I’m glad you could visit Dublin.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for letting me sit in. The new music is…” You sort of had a fangirl moment. “phenomenal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks. Are you taking notes?” He gestured towards your little notebook.</p><p> </p><p>Rachel spoke up. “I asked her to listen to my parts. An old habit from music school.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm….what did you write?” His question was directed to you. You started freaking out a little bit.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, the balance is off with Kristen. Rachel’s voice is so much heavier.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. “Definitely, I was hearing the same thing.” He smiled at you. “I better get back to work. It’s so nice to meet you.”</p><p> </p><p>You felt a little silly for being starstruck. Rachel teased you about it the rest of the day.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was kind enough to invite you to dinner at his house. He was having the band, the team, family and friends over for a thank you party and to celebrate the new album. His house was outside of Dublin, in the countryside. It was an old Irish estate that he had renovated. The house retained its old Irish charm and architectural details, but the furnishings and art were more modern and streamlined. There were a lot of people and everyone was in an incredibly good mood.</p><p> </p><p>Caroline, his manager made a toast and introduced him. Andrew gave a very moving thank you speech. He thanked everyone from his manager, to the band, to his parents, to the road crew that move the equipment. Everyone was very emotional.</p><p> </p><p>It was after dinner and there was plenty of music and the cocktails were flowing.</p><p> </p><p>You were chatting with Jon, Andrew’s brother. He is a film maker, teacher and podcaster. The two of you were talking about American film classics and the best new tv shows. During your conversation, you could feel an eyelash in your eye. You tried to ignore it, but it became increasingly irritating. Finally, you gave in.</p><p> </p><p>“Jon, is there a bathroom I can use? I have an eyelash or possibly a broken piece of glass in my eye.” It was starting to really hurt and you covered your eye with your hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate that. Of course, follow me.” He led you down a hall to a connecting building. “This is Andy’s studio. There is a bathroom you can use. It has the best light too.” He opened a door for you and turned on the light. “Come find me after.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will Jon, thank you.” You spent the next 20 minutes getting the eyelash out of your eye and then trying to repair your eye makeup. When you exited the bathroom, you saw Andrew. He was leaning against the wall, his long arms wrapped around him like armor. His eyes locked onto you.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm….hey.”</p><p> </p><p>He was like a ghost looming in the shadows. “Andrew?” You looked around. “Have been here the whole time?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” His right hand was worrying at his sweater and it wouldn’t be long before he created a hole in it. His face was tautly drawn.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Do you need…?” You gestured towards the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>“No! No.” He was very skittish, like a faun who has been startled by the headlights of a car. You looked around the studio, it was just the two of you.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, if you don’t mind me asking…are you ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I get a little overwhelmed at parties, in crowds… It can take a lot out of me, to be fair.” His voice was so soft, you could barely hear him.</p><p> </p><p>You nodded. “Well, you were terrific out there. That was a lovely speech you gave at dinner. And you have been a very welcoming host. I don’t think anyone suspects.”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a reflexive breath. “Thank you…I feel bad that I get like this…ehm…I mean everyone here is family. I just…” He shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>You cautiously took a step towards him. “Lots of people deal with social anxiety. It’s just how you are wired. And for that matter, no one here would fault you for that. They’re family, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…yeah.” Then he whispered. “What about you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you get anxious…at parties?” His expression was so serious.</p><p> </p><p>You took another step towards him, so that you could ascertain whether he was anxious or in a full blow panic attack. His body seemed to relax the closer you got to him. His breathe was even and controlled. “Well, I am pretty extroverted, so no…but, I was extremely nervous meeting you earlier today.”</p><p> </p><p>His face broke into the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. “Really? Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I love your music and it can be nerve-racking to meet someone whose talent you admire so much.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you…ehm…for what’s worth, I had no idea you were nervous at all!” Even in the dim light, you could see that his cheeks were crimson. The blush traveled down his neck and across the bit of chest that was peeking out from his sweater.</p><p> </p><p>“Good. I was trying to play it cool. I didn’t want to geek out too much. You are Rachel’s boss after all.” He was still smiling at you. “Are you feeling any better Andrew?”</p><p> </p><p>“A little.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to go back to the party?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. not yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to be alone?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…” He tipped head to the side. “No. Truthfully? I followed you here.”</p><p> </p><p>Your stomach did a little flip. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have wanted to talk to you all night.” He gave you a lopsided grin.</p><p> </p><p>You felt a little out of your body then and you have never felt that way before. Not for something good, at least. You gave him your best smile back. “Andrew will you show me your guitars?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah! Of course.” He finally unwrapped his arms and let out a deep breath. “Some of them are at the Academy….but I have an embarrassing amount of them now.” He walked over to a collection of acoustic and electric guitars. They were lined up in a neat row, like soldiers at attention. “You play acoustic?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but I am trying to learn more about electric. We have patients at the hospital who would like to form a band.”</p><p> </p><p>He turned and looked at you. “What are they in the hospital for?”</p><p> </p><p>“PTSD and traumatic brain injury mostly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wow.” He took a breath. “Ehm…this is the guitar that I first learned electric on.” He picked up a blue Fender. “It belonged to my Uncle. Do you want to try it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure! I know the picking and strumming are the same, but I am still really intimidated by the whole thing.”</p><p> </p><p>He gave you the sweetest smile. “Totally, totally! Ehm…here. Let me find an amp.” He handed you the guitar and then disappeared into the next room. He came back with a small Vox practice amp and plugged everything in for you. “The technique is basically the same, but you will find that the electric guitar is very fast on the fingerboard…really responsive.” He gestured for you to sit and then he pulled a stool up next to you.</p><p> </p><p>You started tentatively playing some chords, but stopped cold.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong?” His brows were furrowed together.</p><p> </p><p>“This is a little intimidating.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked utterly confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Playing…Your guitar…In front of you.”</p><p>Then he started to laugh. It was more like a giggle and you were surprised that someone so tall and so large could make such a sound. He covered his mouth with his hand and tried to pull it together.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…sorry. I am laughing out of nervousness. Truly.” He reached over and grabbed his Takamine acoustic guitar. “Here. Let’s play together.” So, you did. He gave you some pointers and ideas, but mostly, he just let you get a feel for the instrument.</p><p> </p><p>“You are so right about the responsiveness. I am not used to that at all.” You played a blues scale up and down. The feel was very silky.</p><p> </p><p>“Totally! Though it is a good thing that you play acoustic. It is much easier to switch over to electric than the other way around.” He was sitting so close to you and watching you so intensely, it was unnerving and exciting at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew do you play a lot in open tuning?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. You have a good ear.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not really. I think I read that in an interview a while back. Do you think that would be a good technique to use with my patients?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, it would make things more accessible. Definitely….Ehm, you read it in an interview? Are you stalking me?” He had a twinkle in his eye.</p><p> </p><p>You let out a dramatic breath. “That’s it! You figured it out! I have been running the long con in order to meet you. You have no idea what I had to do in order to get Rachel hired.” He started laughing again and it was a wonderful sound. “I mean, I have a poster of you in my bedroom and everything!”</p><p> </p><p>He was almost hysterical, “Poster? Do they still have those?”</p><p> </p><p>You just shook your head. “No idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…Are you coming to the concert tomorrow night?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Actually, it’s my last night in town.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that’s too bad.” He was scanning your face.  “I will have Murt talk to you. He’s my guitar tech and he is incredibly knowledgeable. He can give you some good tips for choosing pedals and effects. That’s the most complicated part.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, it’s such a busy night and all.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not at all! Believe me. Techs love to talk shop and it is for such a good reason.”</p><p> </p><p>Just then Jon poked his head in. “Sorry to bother you. Andy, Mum and Dad are getting ready to leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. Thanks Jon. I’m on my way.”</p><p> </p><p>Jon nodded and disappeared back down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>“I better go be the host.” He placed his guitar on the stand.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for the lesson.” You handed him the Fender and then got up to head back to the party. He took hold of your wrist; his hand was incredibly warm and soft.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. For helping me…calm down, that is.” He looked a little sheepish.</p><p> </p><p>“Why Andrew...all I did was ask you about guitars.” You winked at him and headed back to the party.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Help Thaw a Boy Out!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thawing a Boy Out</p><p>You love your bed. It has a memory foam mattress, high-thread count cotton sheets, blankets and a duvet. There is a mountain of pillows and usually, your sweet Irish lad shares it with you. This morning, however, he was up and out the door early. He is categorically a night owl (as are you), but because you have more of a 9 to 5 existence, he was trying to get on the same type of schedule. Otherwise, you do not get to see each other that much, even living in the same house. You woke up when he left the bed at 4:45 am. </p><p>“Where on earth are you going?” You were still half asleep.</p><p>“Swimming.”</p><p>“Ok.” You started to fade off. Murphy was pacing around the bedroom, following Andrew as he took things out of the armoire. </p><p>“Ehm, at the beach.” </p><p>At this, you sat up. It was still dark in the bedroom; the only light came from the attached bathroom. “What do you mean the beach? You have a pool! In your house.”</p><p>“Yeah, but swimming in the sea is exhilarating!” He was putting on his pants and socks. Murphy stood sentry. “Do you want to join me?”</p><p>You flopped back on the bed and pulled the blankets around you. “No, thank you. I am not a water person.” It was one thing to pad around the indoor pool, but to throw yourself into the sea was something else altogether. “Are you taking Murph?” </p><p>“Yeah. Do you mind?” </p><p>“No…Baby?”</p><p>“Yes.” He sat next to you on the bed.</p><p>“Please don’t drown.”</p><p>He gave you a quick kiss. “Don’t worry. I am like a fish.”<br/>---</p><p>Two days later, Andrew was up before dawn again. He had the same plan, go to the beach and swim. Get a jump on the day! He is definitely a man of extremes. </p><p>“I am heading out.” He gave you a quick kiss. “Come on Murphy.” Murphy refused to come out of his crate. Andrew tried to lure him out with a treat, but he wouldn’t budge. “I can’t believe it.”</p><p>You rolled over in the bed to look at what was happening. “Babe. You really have to ask yourself if this plan is a little nuts, when even your water dog doesn’t want to participate.”</p><p>He gave you a frown. “I’ll be back smartass.”</p><p>Day 3 of sunrise sea swimming, you didn’t even wake up when he left. Murphy was sound asleep in his crate when you looked at the clock. The sun was up, but you had another 20 minutes before the alarm. You ducked back under the blankets and relished the warmth. A few minutes later, you heard the back door close. Andrew was home.</p><p>He came up the steps and into the bedroom. Then he took off his clothes and got into the bed with you. He was frozen like a popsicle and was kind enough to plaster himself against you.</p><p>“Oh my God! Andrew!! You are freezing.”</p><p>“I know. Help thaw a boy out!” He pressed his feet on the back of your legs, making you scream. Now Murphy was up and barking. The cherry on top was when your alarm went off.</p><p>“Seriously Andrew! Go take a hot shower. Or better yet, swim in your heated pool.” You got out of the bed and went into the bathroom to get ready. This was an awful way to start the day.</p><p>Day 4 of morning sea swimming, Andrew came back from the beach. You heard him go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. He was in there for a good 20 minutes. You laid in bed and listened to him singing an Irish folk song. Even at the crack of dawn, he sounded good.</p><p>“Ehm…is there room for me?” he was standing next to the bed in his pj’s.</p><p>You lifted the blankets and he slid in next to you. “Now this is nice. Baby, you’re so warm.” You wrapped yourself around his body and soaked in the heat. He smelled like soap and sea salt.</p><p>“Ehm…I stopped at the coffee shop and got us some yummy treats.” </p><p>“Really? That’s so sweet.” You tucked your head into the crook of his neck. His hair was still damp.</p><p>“I’m sorry if my new routine is upsetting you.” He started playing with your hair.</p><p>You kissed his neck. “It isn’t. As long as you never put your ice-cold feet on my body ever again!” </p><p>He laughed. “Deal…ehm…what time do you have to get up?” </p><p>“What did you have in mind?”</p><p>He rolled the two of you over and started kissing your neck and chest. “Oh, I have lots of ideas.”</p><p>You smiled at him. “As long as it doesn’t involve me swimming, I’m game!!”</p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Curly Girl Method</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wash. Rinse. Repeat.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a couple of weeks since you broke your wrist. According to the doctor, your healing was on track and she didn’t anticipate any complications in your recovery. It was a simple fracture and you got it taken care of right away. You were definitely going to need physical therapy once the cast came off, but you had expected that. In meantime, you had a cast, a sling and strict instructions to take it easy.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew had taken over all of the cooking. Some of the meals were a home run and some ended up in the trash. He was a good cook, but a distracted one. Sometimes he would disappear to the studio, start working on something and forget whatever he had put in the oven or on the stovetop. So, in order to stop the culinary carnage, you started monitoring the stove once everything went in.</p><p> </p><p>Your computer and phone had accessibility options, so you were able to use voice to text instead of typing manually. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you were able to adapt and take care of business. Unfortunately, there were two things you really couldn’t do with your hand in a cast. The first was wash and style your hair; the second was driving yourself around. Driving on the other side of the road required all of your concentration and confidence. Neither of which you had an abundance of at the moment. So, Andrew became the tallest, sweetest Uber driver in Ireland. He drove you to class, shuttled you to appointments and took you on errands. You had no complaints about the situation. Your hair was another story.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I’ll just cut it short. It would be a hell of a lot easier.” You were attempting to detangle your hair with one hand.</p><p> </p><p>“What? No. I mean…ehm…no. I love your hair.” He looked slightly panicked.</p><p> </p><p>Like Andrew, you have curly hair. It is very similar in texture and curl shape to Andrew’s except yours is all the way down your back. Even when you have both your hands functioning, it is a lot of work. A very bad, very short haircut in the 6<sup>th</sup> grade had traumatized you completely and you had kept your hair long ever since, but that might have to change.</p><p> </p><p>“But it would be so much easier right now. I can’t deal with it and I have always wanted to try a pixie.”  </p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I can help you.”</p><p> </p><p>You just gave a him look.</p><p><br/>“What? I can’t handle doing your hair?” He looked genuinely surprised at your lack of confidence.</p><p> </p><p>You started howling with laughter. “Baby, you can’t handle <em>your</em> hair! I have 3 times as much as you do.”</p><p> </p><p>He was grinning at you. “No, I <em>choose</em> not to deal with my hair. There is a difference. Seriously, I can do it. You just have to teach me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?” You were dubious at best.</p><p> </p><p>“Totally!”</p><p> </p><p>When it came time to wash your hair, you lined up all of the products in order, on the bathroom counter. There was a pre-shampoo oil you massaged into your scalp, then the co-wash. The co-wash was followed by a conditioner. Then there was a leave-conditioner, curl cream and a gel. You laid out the tools of the trade; your detangling brush, wide tooth comb, a microfiber towel and an old t-shirt. He had no idea what he was in for.</p><p> </p><p>You were wrapped up in your robe, sitting on a stool when he came into the bathroom. Murphy followed behind and promptly laid down by the door. Andrew was wearing a short-sleeve marinière and sweatpants. You gave him a quizzical look.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…is something wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>You smiled at him. “No, I’m just not used to seeing so much bare skin on you during the daylight hours.”</p><p> </p><p>“Funny. Ok…ehm…”He caught sight of your retinue of hair products and cocked an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I use all of these products. Should I make an appointment with the hairdresser instead?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked like he was considering it. The he shook his head. “No. I taught myself guitar, surely I can learn how to do this.” He pointed his long, slim finger towards the lineup.</p><p> </p><p>He ran the tub and listened as you explained the technique and steps. He gently worked the oil into your scalp, then he detangled your hair with the special brush. When the tub was ready, he helped you take your robe off and get in.</p><p> </p><p>He whispered. “I like this part.”</p><p> </p><p>You slid into the water; Andrew kept a hold of your arm with the cast. Then he dragged the stool next to the tub and you rested your bad wrist on it.</p><p> </p><p>“How is that? Do you need a towel underneath it?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it the perfect height. Thank you. The water is perfect too.” You hadn’t been able to take a bath since the fall. You managed a quick shower every day, but it was far from relaxing and you usually were exhausted afterwards. Keeping your wrapped-up arm out of the way of the water was more tiring than you expected.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.” He rubbed his hands together like he always does before playing guitar. “So, I rinse your hair first?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>He took the hand-held shower wand and carefully wet your hair. The he massaged the co-wash into your scalp and hair. His fingers are so strong, but his touch is light. He rinsed and repeated the process with your conditioner.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…Is this ok?” He spoke in his usual quiet way.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes…sorry. This is so incredibly relaxing.”</p><p> </p><p>He used the wide tooth comb to smooth everything through and then he kneaded the muscles in your shoulders and neck. “I can’t believe you do all of this twice a week!”</p><p> </p><p>“I question my sanity every single time, believe me….oh, yes. Right there.” He found a knot that had been bothering you all week.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, your hair always looks beautiful…and smells so good. I really appreciate it.”</p><p> </p><p>You turned your head and gave him a kiss. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Time to rinse again?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>He rinsed your hair out and wrapped it in the towel. Getting into the tub was easy, but getting out was proving a little more difficult. You started to slip a little. Andrew grabbed hold of your good arm and managed to get you out safely.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, that was close. I don’t think we need any more broken bones on you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, no. You know it’s the first time I have ever broken a bone. What about you?” He got you back in your robe and seated on the stool.</p><p> </p><p>“Never. Please God!” He looked skyward.</p><p> </p><p>You knocked your hand on the wood of the cabinet next to you. Andrew started the next round of combing, spritzing and scrunching.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. Now we plop!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>“Plop. It’s the term they use.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked even more confused than before. “They?”</p><p> </p><p>“The curly hair community.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh God, there’s a community?” He started touching his hair absentmindedly.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes. There are insta curlies, twitter curlies and support groups for curlies.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew’s expression was a cross between horror and deep interest. “I had no idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. Let me tell you, they have a bone to pick with you!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked scandalized. “Me?” He started rubbing his chest, it is his way of self-soothing.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. They are very upset with the way you take care of…well, the way you don’t take care of your hair!”</p><p> </p><p>He held up his hand. “Please. I beg you stop. I can’t have this information running around my brain.” He started laughing and you did too.</p><p> </p><p>Later that night, the two of you were in bed reading. Your hair was finally dry and you felt so good from the tub. Andrew’s hair was pulled back in a bun, his glasses perched on his nose. He was reading some brain-melting book about the universe.</p><p> </p><p>“Babe.”</p><p> </p><p>He put his book down and looked at you. “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for taking care of my hair today.”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned over and kissed you. “My pleasure.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think I have ever had anyone take care of me like that. Ever. I mean…a romantic partner that is.” A lump was starting to form in your throat.</p><p> </p><p>He was scanning your face. “You don’t like to be out of control.”</p><p> </p><p>You couldn’t speak, so you nodded your head <em>yes</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I am glad I could be the one to do it…take care of you.”</p><p> </p><p>You kissed him. You still couldn’t speak.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to hear about the expansion rate of the universe?” He gave you a silly grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Duets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Duets</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Something smells delicious in here!” Andrew finally emerged from his studio as you were pulling out the third tray of cookies. You were surprised it took this long.</p><p> </p><p>“Chocolate chip cookies.”</p><p> </p><p>“For me?” He went to take one off of the pan. You smacked his hand gently.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re too hot. You’ll get burned. Besides, these are for Jon.” You slid the tray to the back of the stovetop.</p><p> </p><p>“Jon?” He said it with such a whine. You stopped and eyed him. “Wow, that was petty of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, these are for Jon. <em>These</em> are for you. You handed him a plate of freshly baked, but cooled cookies. “Do you want a coffee to go with that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Please!!!” You had made a small pot of drip coffee earlier, so you put some in a mug for Andrew and slid it across the island to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. These are incredible.” He was already halfway through the first cookie and they weren’t small. “Ehm…I have a question for you. Do you have a minute?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” You grabbed your mug and sat down next him. He popped the last bite of his cookie into your mouth. It <em>was</em>good.</p><p> </p><p>“I want you to do a duet with me for the album.”</p><p> </p><p>“A duet? Seriously?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. The one you helped me write.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s so sweet! No. Thank you but, no.” You washed down the cookie with some warm coffee.</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “ At least take a few minutes to think about it.”</p><p> </p><p>You stroked his face with your hand. “I did.”</p><p> </p><p>“But your voice is so beautiful. I don’t understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not about the quality of my voice. It’s a pretty voice, I’m not embarrassed. I just don’t want the attention.” You took a bite out of his second cookie.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…So, if it were a recording with another artist, would you do it?” He was a little hurt, you could tell.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not about that.” You took hold of his hand. “I’m your girlfriend and we have been able to stay under the radar for the most part. If I’m suddenly on your album, that is going to change things dramatically.”</p><p> </p><p>“True…ehm...but you are going get a song credit. So technically you’re on the album already.” He finished his cookie and was eyeing a third.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t write anything…I helped you with a harmony.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you helped me with the hook! Welcome to publishing. Seriously, I have to do it.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is a little ridiculous.”</p><p> </p><p>“So why not sing with me?”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>do</em> sing with you. All the time and I love it, but I need to keep some things out of the fray.” You were pretty uninterested in fame or notoriety. You weren’t on Facebook and you had an Instagram account you barely posted on. It’s not that you are shy, it’s that you are private. “I don’t want the attention. Do you understand?”</p><p> </p><p>He gave you a sweet smile and a squeeze of the hand. “Yes, I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you ask Kristen? That harmony would sound gorgeous in her voice.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a good idea.” He was looking at you; trying to formulate what he was going to say next. “Ehm…are you unhappy with the fame part?” He brows furrowed together in worry.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m uninterested in it. Unhappy? No, just wary of the whole scene. I think it bothers you more, but it is the price you pay for an unbelievable career.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded his head in answer. Then he tucked your hair behind your ear, leaned over and kissed you. He tasted like chocolate.</p><p> </p><p>“Besides, you have the sweetest fans. I happen to be one of them!”</p><p> </p><p>He kissed you again. “Alright, thank you for the treats.” He headed back down the hall to his studio. “I have to go make a call.”</p><p> </p><p>“To whom?”</p><p> </p><p>“Kristen, of course!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Long Distance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Love has it's ups and downs.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s getting closer to the album release and the tour. The last month has been a flurry of activity for Andrew, his team and the family. The album artwork is another collaboration with his Mom and his brother is creating the digital content. Andrew and his producers put the final touches on the tracks. The EP was a big success and Andrew did some press events and performances in support of it. You were thrilled for him and the whole team.</p><p> </p><p>Sadly, the past few weeks have been very difficult for you. You have been trying to talk to Andrew about his tour schedule and how you were going to handle it as a couple. Should you fly out? Should he come home during his breaks? It was easier when you were living in New York. The bulk of the tour was in the states and getting from JFK airport to anywhere is pretty easy. Back then, you worked a 9 to 5 schedule and had vacation time that you were able to use. It made things a lot easier. Now, you are preparing for an internship and a board certification. The two of you have the dog and you are now a full-time resident of the Emerald Isle. Things are wonderful, but more complicated. Unfortunately, Andrew refused to deal with any of this and you have been shut out from him. He was trying to avoid the complicated and painful parts of being in a relationship. Part of you couldn’t help wondering if he wanted things to end altogether.</p><p> </p><p>You found Andrew in the bedroom. He had been avoiding you all morning. Now, he was pulling pants and shirts from the armoire and piling them on the bed. Murphy was in his crate, watching his every move. You took a seat on the bed and joined the audience. Neither of you said anything for a while, until you broke the silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this what you do to your girlfriends before a tour?”</p><p> </p><p>He stopped what he was doing to look at you. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Freeze them out, drive them away?”</p><p> </p><p>He started packing again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He went into the bathroom for a minute and returned with his travel kit. He placed it on the bed next to the pile.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” he snapped at you. “I don’t have time for this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Time for what? A discussion? A relationship? Tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>He gave you the dourest look. “Why are you bringing this up now? When I am halfway out the door?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you have been slowly shutting me out for the last couple of weeks. And I have tried to talk you about it, but you hid yourself away with work and obligations. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but now you are leaving and nothing is resolved.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew just stood there, saying nothing. The doorbell rang and he winced. It had to be the driver. Murphy raced to door, barking his head off.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll let the driver know you are on your way.” You left the room and headed downstairs. It was Andrew’s usual driver, Tim. When you opened the door, Murphy ran out to see him. Tim always carried dog biscuits in his pocket and he gave him one immediately. You let him know that Andrew was finishing packing and the two of you chatted about the weather while you were waiting.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, Andrew appeared at the door with his suitcase and guitar. “Ehm…hey. How are you Tim?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine Andrew. Let me take that for you.” He took Andrew’s things and headed to the car.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I really hate leaving like this.” He was rubbing at his temples furiously .</p><p> </p><p>“Me too… I love you. Have a safe trip.” You really didn’t know what else to say or do. You gave him a quick kiss and went inside without watching him go. Murphy dutifully followed you.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Later that day, your brother, Sam, called. Your Dad was in the hospital. He had a cold that turned into a respiratory infection and now full-blown pneumonia. His age and his asthma weren’t helping him either. You told Sam that you would get on the next flight out. Unfortunately, the next flight wasn’t until tomorrow. When you reached out to Jon to see if he could take care of Murphy, he happily agreed and offered to take you to the airport in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t I come stay tonight? It will make it easier in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re sure? That would be great, Jon. I’ll make us dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>“Grand. I’ll see you tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>You packed a couple of bags because you weren’t sure how long you would be gone. Murphy watched you repeat the same process as Andrew this morning, piling things on the bed and getting toiletries from the bathroom. He looked so sad, so you sat on the floor with him for a while and told him everything would be ok. Perhaps you were trying to reassure yourself. You had already lost your brother and your Mom years ago. It was unfathomable to you that you could lose your Dad too.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>When Jon showed up at the house later, you almost started crying. It was such a relief to see a friendly face. One of many nice things about your move to Ireland is the friendship you developed with Jon. The two of you had some shared interests and he was, as they say, good craic. You cooked him a gorgeous steak that you were saving for when Andrew got home.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for coming over tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>Jon was swirling his wineglass. “Pleasure. You sounded so stressed on the call. I thought you could use some company.”</p><p> </p><p>You nodded your head, your throat thick with emotion.</p><p> </p><p>“I know a little something about Dads and hospitals. It’s never easy.” He took a sip from his glass. “How’s my brother? I haven’t really talked to him this week.”</p><p> </p><p>You let out a long sigh. “Well, that makes two of us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t tell me…” He shook his head. “He is one brilliant, talented lad, but he sure can be a gobshite.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s almost like….no, never mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“Almost like what? You know you can tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>“He is just shutting me out completely. I can’t get him to make plans or talk to me. It’s almost like he wants me to end the relationship…and before this things were wonderful. We have been so happy together. The move was seamless.” You took a sip from your glass and thought about the life you were building together. Or so you thought. “This change…it came out of absolute nowhere.” You started to cry. Jon got up and came around to your side of the table. He wrapped you up in the most tender hug.</p><p> </p><p>“You poor creature.” He rubbed your back. “It’s going to be ok.”</p><p> </p><p>You cried for a while and then pulled yourself together. Jon handed you a napkin so you could blow your nose. “Thank you, Jon.”</p><p> </p><p>He went back to his chair and poured some more wine into your glasses. “Andrew loves you very much and he <em>is </em>very happy with you. He has told me, so many times. I wish I could tell you why he does this, but I do know that touring is grueling and his anxiety beforehand is always brutal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is this when his relationships have ended?”</p><p> </p><p>Jon nodded. “Distance has always an been difficult for him, except with you.” He sipped from his glass. “Please, don’t give up on him. He has his issues, but he is fundamentally a good person. I would hate to see him lose you.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is very sweet Jon. I do love him, but I have my limits.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, of course, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t even be thinking about this right now. Just go be with your Dad. Everything else can wait.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>Jon insisted on cleaning up and taking Murphy out for his last walk. You gladly accepted the help and disappeared to your bedroom. After, brushing your teeth and washing your face, you climbed into bed. You realized then that you hadn’t let Andrew know about your Dad or your travel plans. So, you sent him text with all of the information.</p><p> </p><p>About an hour later, Andrew called. You were laying in the dark and almost didn’t answer the call.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. God, I’m so sorry about your Dad. Are you ok?” There was laughter in the background. You couldn’t even remember where he was at this moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Not really. I will feel better once I get to the hospital. Jon is here. He is going to stay with Murphy.”</p><p> </p><p>“When did you find out?”</p><p> </p><p>“Right after you left.”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a sigh. “Why didn’t you call me then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you serious?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…hold on.” You heard him talking to someone, Caroline most likely, but you couldn’t understand what he was saying. “Ehm…are you there?” You heard a door shut on his end.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, just trying to find some privacy.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want me to say Andrew?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I just want to know what is going on? I thought we talked about this?” His tone was strained.</p><p> </p><p>At that you started to lose it. “Yes, we did. Apparently, I am supposed to tell you everything, but you refuse to talk to me about anything!” You were furious.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, I am just worried.”</p><p> </p><p>“And so am I!! You haven’t talked me in weeks and I don’t understand why.”</p><p> </p><p>He just sighed into the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew…we can’t make this work if you refuse to talk to me. I thought we are team? And if you don’t want it to work, let me know. I am not going waste my time.”</p><p> </p><p>He was stunned into silence.</p><p> </p><p>There you were, in the bed you share with Andrew, feeling utterly alone. “I have to go. I have an early flight. You should probably coordinate with Jon about Murphy. Good night.”</p><p> </p><p>You didn’t even wait for his reply. You hung up, wrapped yourself in the blankets and cried yourself to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>To be continued…</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Long Distance-Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The flight from Dublin felt like it lasted forever. You were nervous about your Dad and the long flight time wasn’t helping your anxiety. Thankfully you breezed through customs and your car service was waiting for you.</p><p> </p><p>When you finally got to the hospital, your Dad was doing very poorly. His lungs were junky and his oxygen saturation was low. Your brother, Sam, was sleeping in the chair next to bed, keeping vigil. He looked ten years older than his actual age. You knelt next to you him and whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“Sammy, I’m here.”</p><p> </p><p>He woke with a start. “What?” When he realized it was you, he was more than relieved. “Oh, thank God.” You both looked at your Dad to make sure that he was still sleeping. Sam gestured towards the door and you went into the hall. As soon as you got out of the room, he pulled you into a bear hug and lifted you in the air.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so glad you are here.” He finally put you on the ground and let go.</p><p> </p><p>“I wish I could have been here last night. Where’s Em?” Emily and Sam have been together for forever. She works for a non-profit in D.C. that focuses on homelessness and food insecurity. Last year, she and Sam eloped while on vacation in Hawaii. They had a huge party after at their house to celebrate and you’ve never seen Sam so happy. Emily is the perfect foil for Sam who is too smart for his own good.  </p><p> </p><p>“Em’s back at the townhouse getting some sleep. How’s Andy?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s on the other side of the world doing press for the EP.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam gave you a sympathetic look. “So, there is no change with Dad. We are still waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. If there is no improvement by tomorrow, they will change meds.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you want to go back to the townhouse and get some real sleep? I can take over.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Thanks…I want to stay until he is awake, but I could use some food. I’ll stretch my legs and find something for us. Ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” You hugged again.</p><p> </p><p>You slipped back into the room. Your Dad was hooked up to iv’s, monitors and oxygen. He was pale and looked thinner than the last time you saw him. Your heart constricted seeing him like this. All you could do was sit with him and pray.</p><p> </p><p>Since you left Ireland, Andrew texted you pretty much every hour. He wanted to make sure you were ok and he wanted to know about your Dad. Your father loves Andrew. They have a shared love for literature and poetry and have had many interesting discussions about both. You text with your Dad every day and talk almost every other day. Often, Andrew jumps in to chat with him for a bit. So, you weren’t surprised by his deep concern. If something happened to Andrew’s family, you would be crushed. So, as you sat at your Dad’s bedside, you sent out an update to Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hi. Dad is on antibiotics and oxygen. Not awake yet. Not good.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> Honey. I’m here if you need me.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Thank you.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Sam returned after an hour, laden with food and coffee. “I wasn’t sure what to get, so I got everything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Be prepared! Isn’t that the scout motto?” You gestured to him for a coffee.</p><p> </p><p>“Bagel sandwich?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p> </p><p>He handed you a sandwich and coffee. “Be prepared <em>is</em> the scout motto. I’m impressed you know that, Pip.” For as long as you can remember, your brothers have called you Pip. It was short for pipsqueak and was a term of endearment as well as annoyance, depending on the moment. When you were a teen, you bristled when they used it. Now it is always said and received with affection. You would give anything to hear Will say it to you now.</p><p> </p><p>“So, how is the big guy?” Sam is six-foot-tall, not short by any standard and Andrew towers over him.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s good. It’s really chaotic right now with the album and the tour coming.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded. “And where is he right now?”</p><p> </p><p>You were chewing and thinking. “Actually, I have no idea. I think he is in Berlin? The schedule was changed at the last minute. I would have to look it up. Isn’t that terrible of me?”</p><p> </p><p>“So…Europe.” He laughed. “And you are still liking Ireland?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Sam, I really love it. The people are fantastic and my program is going well. There are a lot of opportunities for me there too. I just have to finish my certification.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so glad. And Andy? He’s still good to you?” Sam, Rachel and Andrew were the three people in the world that knew your whole story. Not even your father knew everything that happened with your ex. By that point, he had already lost his wife and a son; telling him everything would have killed him without a doubt.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re going through a little rough patch.” You swirled your coffee around in your cup.</p><p> </p><p>He leaned forward in his chair. “What kind of rough?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Sam! Nothing like that. Just a communication gap.” You looked at your Dad to make sure he was sleeping. “The tour, the travel…we’re just trying to figure things out. Please, don’t worry.”</p><p> </p><p>He seemed satisfied with your answer. “Ok. Sorry. It’s just…you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Promise me, Pip. If anything…”</p><p> </p><p>You stopped him. “Sam, it’s ok.” Time to change the subject. “So, when are you and Em going to have a baby?”</p><p> </p><p>“Pip. Don’t be a busy body.” He smiled at you. “We’re working on it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. I know she is anxious for kids.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam held up a giant chocolate chip cookie. You nodded <em>yes</em> and he gave you half.</p><p> </p><p>“When is Andy going to propose?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sam, don’t be a busy body.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not. He talked to Dad before you moved to Ireland. I just figured it would have happened already.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Just then a nurse came in. They needed to take care of your Dad. So, you moved into the lounge while you waited. After you got settled in, your brother whispered to you.</p><p> </p><p>“Pip, I’m sorry. I thought you two had talked about getting engaged.”</p><p> </p><p>“We did. We have…there is a lot going on right now. It will happen.” Now that the idea was put into your head, you started to wonder if that is why Andrew was shutting you out. Maybe he didn’t want to get married? Maybe he wanted out? This was an awful thing to have in your thoughts. All you had was time to watch your Dad and to perseverate on your relationship.</p><p>---</p><p>Two days had passed and your Dad was still unconscious. You and Sam took turns during that time, sitting with him and talking to him. There were also lots of calls to your two aunts in Michigan. Dad is the middle child and the only boy. His sisters have always revered him and spoiled him. It’s sweet. Obviously, they were very upset about his illness, but Sam kept them at bay and in Michigan. At least for now.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was back in Ireland and home with Murphy. You missed that silly dog so much. You told Sam all about him and showed him pictures.</p><p> </p><p>“I love his eyes. What an unusual looking dog. And I mean that in a good way.”</p><p> </p><p>“His eyes are very striking. They caught our attention when we were looking on the shelter’s website.” You closed out of the photo app on your phone. “We walk the beach every day. It’s been really nice. The whole area reminds me of home. Our home…growing up, I mean. The whole island is so green all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m envious. Emily and I would love a dog and walks on the beach. Work is incredibly demanding and I am traveling more than ever.” Sam works for a think-tank that deals with climate change issues and solutions.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what you get for being smart.” You got up from your chair to stretch. Your body felt like lead.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s the one living the dream in Ireland with your giant? I’d say you’re the smart one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you two have a b-a-b-y, you’re going to have cut back somewhere.” You were doing standing twists and your back rewarded you with a resounding crack.</p><p> </p><p>“Pip, why are you spelling the word baby?” Sam looked exhausted. His grey-blue eyes were rimmed in red and he had bags underneath. He looked just like Dad.</p><p> </p><p>“No clue, Sam. No. Clue.”</p><p> </p><p>You sat back in the chair. Sam was rubbing his face. He had about four days-worth of hair growth which was unusual for him. He was always clean-shaven, hair short and styled. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m halfway to a beard.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe how much grey hair you have in that beard.” You started giggling.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe how much you two talk.” His voice was weak and raspy, but it was there. Your Dad was smiling at the two of you.</p><p> </p><p>“Sam, get the nurse!” You jumped to your Dad’s side. “Dad. Daddy. Hi. I’m here.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a flurry of activity. The nurse came in, then the on-call doctor followed by the pulmonary specialist. The nurse politely ushered you out so they could take vitals, change iv bags and get your Dad cleaned up a bit.</p><p> </p><p>Sam pulled you into a hug. “Thank God.” When he finally let go you, you couldn’t speak. The relief was incredible.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to call Emily and let her know.” Sam went down the hall to the elevators. He liked to go outside to talk on the phone. Probably for the best, he’s not exactly quiet.</p><p> </p><p>You found a chair in the lounge and started to text Rachel and your cousins. Then you texted Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dad finally woke up and is talking </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Thank goodness. so so happy. Please call when you can. I love you</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>To be continued…</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Long Distance-Part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a reminder that I do not know Hozier. This character is an extrapolation. So keep that in mind. Stay safe and stay kind.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey!”</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>“How is your Dad?”</p><p>“Doing better with every day. If he continues to improve, they will move him to a rehab facility to recuperate.”</p><p>Andrew’s brows furrowed together and he tipped his head to the side. “Sorry?”</p><p>“Not rehab, rehab. It’s a step down in care from the hospital. They will help him get stronger so he can go home. He is going to need some physical and pulmonary therapy as well.”</p><p>“Oh, ok. I was confused for a moment.”</p><p>You were facetiming with Andrew during the short window of time that your schedules lined up. It was the first time you were speaking live; you had only been able to text before now. Things were far from fixed between the two of you, but you were happy to see him and grateful for the distraction.</p><p>“Where’s Murphy?”</p><p>“Ehm…passed out on the floor. He swam with me this morning and he’s pretty knackered.” Andrew moved the phone so you could see the dog. He was laying under Andrew’s chair, snoring away.</p><p>“Poor thing. I miss him.” Your heart constricted at the sight of him. “I keep looking for him, my little shadow.”</p><p>Andrew had a little trouble with the phone, but he finally got it back in the right position. “Still there?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Honey, I am going to have the team send you the tour schedule. Maybe we can figure out some times for you to come out?” He was rubbing his collarbone so hard, it was bright red.</p><p>“Andrew, you’re going to hurt yourself.”</p><p>“What? Oh.” He stopped rubbing. He smiled at you, but it was a nervous one. His hair was loose and wet, he had just come from a sea swim. You could swear he was still shaking from the cold.</p><p>“The tour schedule? You mean the one I asked for a month ago?”</p><p>Andrew made a guilty face. “Yes.”</p><p>You felt like an afterthought. “I’m not sure what the next few weeks are going to look like. My Dad can’t go back to his townhouse. It has three levels and stairs. He’s just too weak now.” Five years ago, your father took his current university teaching position. It was a great opportunity and it allowed him to be closer to you and Sam. In the process, he sold the family home, and downsized to the townhouse.</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I found an apartment on campus for him. It has two bedrooms and an elevator. So, we will have to sell the townhouse and move everything. It’s going to take some time to get him settled.” You were clutching a mug of coffee that had the Yale logo on it. Sam rowed crew there during undergrad. “Andrew, why couldn’t we have had this conversation weeks ago? Why wasn’t I part of the discussion at the beginning?”</p><p>“I’m sorry. It just such an intense period of time. Things fall by the wayside sometimes.” The minute he said it, he realized how horrible it sounded. “Not that…fuck.”</p><p>“I guess I have my answer.” You were so hurt, but you couldn’t give in to those feelings right now and deal with your dad. “Andrew, I have to go now. Please give Murphy a hug for me.”</p><p>He just nodded and you ended the call.</p><p> </p><p>Later, he texted you. <em>I’m sorry for not handling this well. Will call tomorrow. x</em></p><p> </p><p>To be continued….</p>
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<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Long Distance-Part 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the middle of the night when the hospital called. <em>Your father’s condition has deteriorated. You should come immediately</em>. During the car ride, neither you nor Sam said a word, but you held hands the whole time. When you entered the ICU, one of the nurses escorted you to his room. <em>There isn’t much time</em>, she said.</p><p> </p><p>There is never enough time, you thought. Not enough time with your mother and now your father. He was unconscious and his breathing was wretched and erratic. The same thing happened with your mother. You remember sitting with Sam and Dad, holding her hand and listening to her breathing until it stopped. It seemed to last forever then and it felt that way now. Sam was talking in low, quiet tones to your dad, telling him all the wonderful things he learned from him and how much he loved him. You couldn’t say a word. Your mouth felt like cotton and tasted like metal. The walls seemed like they were closing in; you needed to get out of the room for a minute.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to go ask for a priest.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded as you fled the room. The nurses at the station were busy, but quietly so. The woman who helped you earlier approached you, she was wearing purple scrubs.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I help you?”</p><p> </p><p>“We need a Catholic priest for last rites.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, I’ll call one for you. Do you need anything else?”</p><p> </p><p>It came out without thinking. “More time.”</p><p> </p><p>She gave you a sad, knowing look.</p><p> </p><p>You shook your head. “No, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will make the call, but let me walk you back first.” She took hold of your arm and walked with you down the long corridor back to the room. Her hands were cold and she smelled like Chanel No. 5. It was the scent your Mother wore. Her small gesture meant so much to you.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The priest arrived quickly. Your father always carried a rosary with him. You found it in the pocket of his jacket. So, you placed it in his hands one last time. It was comforting to hear the words and to say the prayers. Shortly after the priest left, your Dad took his last breath. You didn’t cry or yell. Matter of fact, you barely felt anything at all. It was all too surreal and there was no time for grief. Now it was time to call the funeral home and your list of relatives to give them the sad news.</p><p> </p><p>Sam was bereft. He was always so close to your dad and so tender-hearted. You worried he might never get over the loss. When the two of you finally got back to the townhouse, you made a list of people to contact and split it in half. Sam offered to call your Aunts first and you were grateful to him for doing it. The next few hours were spent making calls to friends, family and your father’s coworkers. An appointment was scheduled at the funeral home to make final decisions; you would talk to the priest later. At that point, Sam passed out on the couch. You headed to the guest room and crawled underneath the sheets and collapsed.</p><p> </p><p>When you woke up a few hours later, you heard Sam on the phone. He was talking to Emily who had gone back to DC for work. Now she would have to come back for the funeral. You laid in bed and eavesdropped a little bit. They had such a happy relationship even though they had busy careers and lives. It was a balanced partnership and it made you glad for them, but also a little envious. Lately, you felt like you were always giving and getting ignored for your efforts, but you also doubted your reaction. Being in an abusive relationship had left its mark and sometimes you didn’t trust your feelings or reactions.</p><p> </p><p>When Sam ended his call, you headed downstairs. He was in the kitchen making a sandwich. You sat at the little table and watched him.</p><p> </p><p>“Sandwich?”</p><p> </p><p>You hadn’t eaten since yesterday, you weren’t hungry, but you knew you should eat something. “Yes, please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Turkey or ham?” He was spreading mustard on the rolls.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll eat whatever you give me, Sam. Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded and continued building the sandwiches. Sam is the middle child who became the oldest when your brother died. He has always insisted on taking care of you, even when you didn’t need it. His intellect is only exceeded by his big heart.</p><p> </p><p>“Here you go. Ham, cheese and turkey.” Sam handed you a plate and sat down opposite you.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, it looks good…How’s Emily?”</p><p> </p><p>He answered you between bites. “Surprised. I mean… so am I…he seemed to be improving. I still don’t understand…”</p><p> </p><p>Your father had been improving little by little, but he had been asthmatic since he was a child. It was the reason he became so interested in literature and poetry. He wasn’t able to run around the neighborhood or play sports. Books became a refuge for him and eventually, his life’s passion. His lungs were never great and you remember the many asthma attacks he had over the years. Everyone in the family knew where the extra inhaler was in case, he needed it.</p><p> </p><p>“It was the asthma. If he didn’t have it…”You couldn’t even finish your thought. Sam sat across from you; sandwich abandoned on the plate. You hadn’t even touched yours.</p><p> </p><p>“What about Andy?”</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t called him yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Sam reached over and grabbed a bag of chips from the counter. Salt and vinegar, they were Dad’s favorite. “What’s going on? This sounds more serious than what you told me before?” He pulled some chips out of the bag and put them on your plate.</p><p> </p><p>“I worry that my gauge is off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you elaborate?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I am looking for too much?”</p><p> </p><p>“From Andy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pip, historically speaking your gauge <em>has</em> been off, but not in the way you think. You are still trying to make yourself small and not ask for too much. I know you.”</p><p> </p><p>You worried at your lip.</p><p> </p><p>“Is he hurting you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh God, no Sam. No. I already told you that. Andrew couldn’t hurt a fly. It’s s not in his nature.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam leaned forward on the table. “Then what is going on?”</p><p> </p><p>You let out a deep breath. “He’s just ignoring me. The album, the tour , the press events. Everything is being organized, scheduled and considered…and I am nowhere in the mix. I knew what I was getting into…or least I thought I did. Andrew is just very myopic in how he approaches his music. He just doesn’t do balance. Like you and Em. That’s what is going on. We were happy and then he stopped talking to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam took everything in. “Emily and I have been together a long time. We weren’t always this in-sync with each other. The first couple of years we almost broke up a few times.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t know that Sam.”</p><p> </p><p>“It worked out. Well, we wanted it to work and so we figured it out.” He smiled at you.</p><p> </p><p>You nodded your head.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want it to work out with Andy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but…” Your words were stuck in your throat.</p><p> </p><p>“But what?” Sam extended his hand and you took it.</p><p> </p><p>“It was all great before, with my ex. It started out great and then it changed. I can’t imagine Andrew ever hurting me, not like that, but he can break my heart. And I…” You couldn’t make yourself say it.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t want to find out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Sam, I’m never going to get over it am I?”</p><p> </p><p>Right on cue, your phone started ringing. It was in the pocket of your hoodie. When you pulled it out Andrew’s name flashed across the screen.</p><p> </p><p>“I better take it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” He squeezed your arm as he left you alone.  </p><p> </p><p>You slid your phone open. “Hello.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. I wanted to check in.” His voice was so soft and lush. “How’s your Dad?”</p><p> </p><p>Your heart started pounding. “He didn’t make it. He passed early this morning around 2:00 am.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Christ, I am so sorry. So sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>You could feel it building. That protective, emotional wall that you had developed over the years. The one that helped you say goodbye to your loved ones and the one that kept you going when life was hell. There was no preventing it. It was completely out of your control at this point.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“What happens next? Will there be funeral?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, we have an appointment tomorrow at the funeral home. We will make all the arrangements then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, how are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“I honestly don’t know…Andrew, where are you?” You never did look at the schedule.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…Berlin.”</p><p> </p><p>You started to panic. “What about Murphy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jon is staying with him. Don’t worry. He’s in good hands.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh good…Please thank him for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course…At this point, he’s been living in our house more than we have.”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t lost on you that he said <em>our house</em>, but sadly, you weren’t sure it made any difference to you right now.</p><p> </p><p>You both got very quiet. He was breathing softly into the phone and was, most likely, rubbing vigorously at his temple. Your stomach was twisting itself around and you suddenly felt very ill.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, I have to get off the phone. I feel sick.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Honey. Ok. Call me later, please.”</p><p> </p><p>You hung up and laid your head on the table.</p><p> </p><p>To be continued…</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Peppers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a silly, little fic dedicated to my Trash Panda Grandmas.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Is that how you cut peppers?”</p><p> </p><p>It was the first time Andrew was staying with you in your NYC apartment. Last night, you went out on the town. Tonight was going to be a quiet night in and you promised to cook him something delicious.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was leaning against the counter in your extraordinarily tiny kitchen watching you chop vegetables. You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, your knife held in mid-air. “Yes, this is how I cut peppers. Is there a problem?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…” He was doing that thing with his tongue in his cheek. “No…Yes?…No.” He shook his head firmly.</p><p> </p><p>You extended your arm and offered him the knife. “Did you want to cut the peppers?” He let out a reflexive breath. “Yes. Thank you.” The kitchen cabinets were from the 1950’s and very short. Andrew had to hunch down just to get close to the countertop. He took a pepper and cut it in half down the middle and then pulled out the seeds and core. Seeds starting to pop all over the counter and onto the floor. He then cut each half into thin slices, exactly like the ones you just cut.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…sorry….the seeds…I’ll get them.” He started cleaning the seeds up. So, you stepped back, grabbed your wine and watched. He picked up what he could and then he got your little broom next to your fridge and swept the rest. By the time he finished, you drank the last of your wine.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. There you go. Sorry for the mess.” He was giving you a lopsided grin that reminded you of a puppy.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” You took back the knife and placed the last pepper on the cutting board. You placed it upright and cut each lobe off and then the bottom. It left the core and seeds intact and no mess on the board. Then you sliced them and put them in the bowl with the rest. Andrew was just standing there, watching intently. His long arms were crossed and he was chewing on his thumb.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh. That’s interesting. It’s definitely a better way to do it, but not the way I learned.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who taught you the other way?”</p><p> </p><p>He blushed. “My Mom.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s sweet, but I cut peppers this way.” You turned away from him to get some things out of the cabinet.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you consider doing it the other way?”</p><p> </p><p>You figured he was kidding, but when you turned around you could tell he was definitely serious. This whole situation was making him anxious; the guarded body language, the perseveration and the nail biting were dead giveaways.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, is this upsetting you in some way? Because I am sensing…”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. I’m doing it, aren’t I? Being weird. Rigid?” He tightened his hold on himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but you’re in luck. I deal with this kind of thing all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>He was very serious. “That’s good.”</p><p> </p><p>You handed him your glass. “Why don’t you refill our wine glasses and put on some music? I can finish here.” He went into the other room and put on some Aretha Franklin. You chopped the onions and garlic quickly before he came back and gave you another tutorial.</p><p> </p><p>Later, after a delicious dinner, you relaxed together on the couch. Sarah Vaughn was on the playlist. Andrew was rubbing your bare feet and you were enjoying every minute of it.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…about the pepper thing. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I do that.”</p><p> </p><p>You smiled at him. “It really gets to you, doesn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Has anyone ever talked to you about anxiety?”</p><p> </p><p>He was quiet. “Seriously, I apologize. It must have been very annoying. Your culinary skills are fantastic.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. It felt a little intrusive. Imagine if I tried to correct your finger-picking technique?” You gave him a smile and a little poke with your foot.</p><p> </p><p>“He scrunched up his face horrified. “Nooo…that bad? I am such an arse!”</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, you’re supposed to use your pointer finger!!! It would be so much easier.”</p><p> </p><p>He was laughing heartily and it made you happy.</p><p> </p><p>“I taught myself and I made a mess of it, to be fair.” He stretched his hand towards you and you took it.</p><p> </p><p>“Jerk, I trained with some of the best and you’re so much better than me.” You feigned being angry.</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t say that, you’re quite good.”</p><p> </p><p>You looked at him for a moment. “I am serious about the anxiety. Maybe you should talk to someone about it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…can I talk to you about it?” He gave you a sweet look.</p><p> </p><p>You laughed. “Absolutely not. Then I can’t sleep with you. Professional conflict.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He started to pull you into his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t seem nervous now.”</p><p> </p><p>He kissed you. “Ehm…what’s the saying? Fake it ‘til you make it.”</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Long Distance-Part 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a reminder that I do not know Hozier. This is a creation from my fevered brain. Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The meeting at the funeral home was a blur. The rest of the week was a blur. Your phone rang non-stop with calls and text messages came at all hours of the day. It was a confirmation of what you already knew; your father was a brilliant professor, but most importantly, he was a kind and loving human being. There was a digital guestbook on the funeral home website. It was filled with messages from current and former students, colleagues, friends and family. The messages all had the same thing in common, the compassion your father had for everyone he encountered. It was a great comfort during one of the worst times of your life.</p><p> </p><p>Emily returned from DC. She brought a black suit for Sam and a black dress of hers for you. You appreciated the effort, unfortunately there was no way it was ever going to fit you. Emily is 5’10” on flat feet. She was a competitive swimmer in college and despite her desk job, she maintained her athletic physique and swimmer’s shoulders. You are 5’3 ½” on a good day. So, in addition to all the coordinating and planning for your Dad’s funeral, you had to go buy a dress you would probably would never wear again.</p><p> </p><p>Emily offered to drive and go with you to the local strip mall. It was nice to have the company and to spend time with her in person. You love her like a sister and especially now, you are thankful for her presence.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to try TJ’s first?” Emily was navigating your Dad’s Prius through the streets of town.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s probably the best bet. Besides, this dress is going in the donation bin right after.”</p><p> </p><p>“They have shoes as well. I assume you didn’t pack black dress shoes?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” You shook your head. “I packed like a drunken sailor. No real outfits and all of the basic things missing.” You hadn’t been sleeping well at all and your muscles felt heavy and tight.</p><p> </p><p>Emily reached across and gave your leg a squeeze. “You’re doing great. Both you and Sam.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks Em. You got a great guy there.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know! He thinks the world of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. He fears me. I know all his secrets!” You both laughed and it felt good. It was a reminder that life will go on and things will improve.</p><p> </p><p>In the store, you found a simple, black dress with a V-neck and long sleeves. It was marked down to $19.99. Emily scoped out a pair of black pumps and a small black purse and you found some stockings. After you paid, Emily ran next door to get coffee and you headed back to the car. While you waited for her to return, your phone started ringing with a FT call. It was Andrew. You slid the phone open and he appeared on your screen. His hair was pulled back and his beard was trimmed short. He was wearing the green sweater you gave him for Christmas.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…hey. How are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. I’m in the car. I had to buy an outfit for the funeral.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alone?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Emily is with me. She ran into Starbucks for reinforcements.”</p><p> </p><p>He was pursing his lips and rubbing his palms; he must have bad news. “Is something wrong Andrew?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Ehm…I’m just anxious to be there with you. The team is working out all the details.”</p><p> </p><p>“This morning, at the funeral home, they asked me if I was going to sing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you?” His face was scrunched up.</p><p> </p><p>“No. I couldn’t possibly do it. Would be willing to sing something? A simple folk song or something like that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely. Do you want me to figure it out or did you have something in mind?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled. “Ok. Is Rachel going to make it? Maybe we can do a duet.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. She is still on tour with her band. She was going to cancel a show just to come, but it would make things so difficult for her. I told her not to worry about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Honey. I know that must be a disappointment for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ok. She and I will do something to remember Dad. Just the two of us.”</p><p> </p><p>Emily returned laden with coffee and treats. She started loading everything into the console between your seats. You showed her the phone.<br/><br/></p><p>“Hi Andy.”</p><p> </p><p>He gave a little wave from the screen. “Hey Emily. Ehm…I’ll let you go. I’ll text you my travel info when I get it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>He put his hand on his heart and winked at you. Then you ended the call.</p><p> </p><p>Emily put the car in reverse and eased out of the parking spot. “Are you ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, what has my brother told you?”</p><p> </p><p>She put the car in drive and headed for the main road. The Prius hummed and it felt like you were floating rather than riding. Emily glanced at you quickly. “Nothing. It’s written all over your face.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t have to talk about it.”</p><p> </p><p>You looked out the passenger window and sipped your flat white.</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever it is, don’t settle. You deserve to be happy. Don’t get me wrong, I really like Andy. He is brilliant…talented…and cute in that nerdy way.”</p><p> </p><p>You laughed at her description.</p><p> </p><p>“But you have it all too and life is too short to struggle all the time. Your relationship should be your haven.”</p><p> </p><p>You were chewing on the lid of your cup. “Sam told me you two almost broke up in the beginning.”</p><p> </p><p>Emily giggled at the memory. “Several times. We were so much younger and very passionate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tempestuous?”</p><p> </p><p>She winked at you. “Oh yes, but it’s not sustainable. We needed to get it together. So, what on earth is happening with you and Andy? I’m confused. And it can’t be the sex, I’ve listened to all his songs!”</p><p> </p><p>You could feel yourself blush.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, I’m right…aren’t I? Can you open my coffee for me?” That was Em. Smart, blunt, sassy and practical.</p><p>You fixed her cup and handed it to her. “No. You are definitely right about that… It’s a communication issue. He’s just in his own world. I am alone, on the outside. We don’t talk and he is about take-off for the better part of a year.”</p><p> </p><p>You were stopped at a light. “Has it always been that way?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not at all. That’s why it is so strange. He has done a total 180 on me and it’s unnerving. You know what I mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” The light changed to green. “Well, he is on his way. Maybe you can talk?...Why do men make it so hard sometimes?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have no idea!”</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p>It was the day of the wake. Andrew was supposed to be here already, but there was a problem. His flight from Prague left on time, but his connecting flight out of Heathrow was delayed due to an engine problem. The plan now was for him to come straight to the funeral home from the airport.</p><p> </p><p>Like every funeral home you have ever been in, it was stifling and hot. There was an embarrassment of flower arrangements and the smell of lilies and gladiolas was suffocating. The line of well-wishers went out the door and down the block. You were standing between Emily and Sam; your Aunts and Uncles filled out the reception line. Every person you spoke with had a wonderful story about your Dad. Students shared how he inspired them in class. A neighbor told about the time he fixed a flat tire for her. Colleagues regaled you with stories of faculty meetings and philosophical debates. You were so grateful for their stories and so sad that this would be the last of them. It was half-way through the designated time when you spotted Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>He was head and shoulders above the crowd and a few of college students clearly recognized him. They started whispering. He was wearing a black suit you didn’t recognize and he looked flustered. When he locked eyes with you, it felt like the air was knocked out of your lungs. All you wanted to do is cry with relief. He gave you a sweet, understanding look and made his way over to you.</p><p> </p><p>Sam leaned over and whispered in your ear. “Your giant is here.” You promptly elbowed him in the ribs.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew said hello to your family. Sam gave him a bro-hug and then he slid next to you in line. He bent down a gave you a quick kiss. “Sorry. It was a disaster getting here.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ok. I’m just glad you are here. Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook everyone’s hand and listened to their stories about your Dad. Every 20 minutes or so he made you sip some water and when your Aunt felt a little overwhelmed, he sat with her in the back of the room.</p><p> </p><p>When calling hours were over and the visitors were gone, the funeral director opened the casket. Now, the family could have some time with Dad. You placed his rosary in the casket with him, along with some pictures of you, Sam, Will and Mom. You had written him a letter and slipped that in with a copy of Shelley’s poem, <em>Music, When Soft Voices Die</em>. Then you said goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>There was a family dinner at a local restaurant. It was nice to talk to your aunts, uncles and cousins, but you felt oddly detached from the scene. You picked at the food and tried to be social, but you just wanted to be alone. Finally, everyone said their goodnights; you would do this again tomorrow at the funeral. Maybe it would feel real then?</p><p> </p><p>Andrew booked a hotel room for the two of you. It would give you two some privacy and he would be able to sleep in a bed that fits. So, you gave your cousins the guestroom at your Dad’s house to use. When you finally got into bed, you absolutely collapsed. Andrew slid in next to you and pulled you into his embrace. There in the dark, alone with your love, your reserve started to crack and break apart. He murmured sweet words to you and in the safety of his arms, you finally wept.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Caffeine and Sugar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a little fun on a Friday. I still do not know Hozier.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Andrew…I’m not ready. I can’t do this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…not even for a little bit?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I studied and watched those videos you sent me, but…I’m not ready.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to push you, but you keep backing out. You’re going to have to do it at some point.”</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, I’m sorry. I know you really wanted us to do this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh honey. It’s ok, but I do think you would be happier if you just tried. Ehm…you might even enjoy it.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>You’re sitting behind the wheel of Andrew’s SUV; he’s in the passenger seat acting as your driving instructor. You got as far as the end of his long driveway and then you panicked and stopped the vehicle. So far, you loved everything about Ireland. The people are kind and interesting, the natural beauty is astonishing and of course, being with your love made everything wonderful. Unfortunately, the thought of driving on the left side of the road terrified you. In New York, you didn’t need car. Whenever you visited your Dad or your brother, you took the train to see them. So, your driving was rusty to start. Now you had to remember to drive opposite the way you had been taught.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid that I will forget and drift over to the other side. I could kill someone!”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew reached over and placed his hand on your shoulder. He started to massage your muscles a little, probably in an effort to get you to release your death grip on the steering wheel.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s scary, I know. But there is no traffic out here. We have a better chance of coming upon livestock than people. Really, you’ll be grand.”</p><p> </p><p>You leaned into his hand. “Or we could go back to the house and you can do that to me with my top off.” You bat your eyelashes at him.</p><p> </p><p>He started to laugh and his eyes sparkled. “As delightful as that sounds, I think we need to…what’s that expression you always use?”</p><p> </p><p>“Rip off the band-aid?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>You loosened your grip on the steering wheel and took a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I have an idea. What if you drive us to the coffee shop? We can get a little treat and I will drive us home. Do you want to try that?” His hand was on your thigh now and you could feel the heat from his hand through your jeans.</p><p> </p><p>You looked at him. “You really do know my weaknesses.”</p><p> </p><p>He squeezed your thigh. “Well, they’re my weaknesses as well.” He gave you his million-dollar smile and you were done.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.” You took in a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Grand! Now if you get too nervous, you can pull over and I can drive.” He smoothed your hair back behind your ear.</p><p> </p><p>You put the car in drive, looked both ways and when you saw it was clear to go, you eased the car onto the road.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s it. Ehm…do you want me to put on some music? Maybe something soothing?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I think quiet is best.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>You drove along in silence until you came upon some goats and their babies in the road. “Babe, you weren’t kidding about the goats!”</p><p> </p><p>He laughed. “I see what you did there. Kidding!! Yeah, just hit the horn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously, Andrew? I wasn’t making a pun. You have the sense of humor of a middle-aged dad sometimes.” You honked the car horn a few times, but the creatures just stood there looking at you. “Well, that worked.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can tell you don’t encounter a lot of goats in New York.” He was smirking.</p><p> </p><p>You honked again and eased the car towards the little pack. “Not usually, but they are friendlier than the crowd I deal with on the subway.”</p><p> </p><p>He frowned at this. “I worry about that sometimes…Ehm, yeah, that’s good. They’re moving now.” The goats finally got the hint. They made their way to side of the road where they found fresh things to chew on. You continued on your way.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, did you say you worry about me in the city?” You could see him frown out of the corner of your eye. He placed his hand back on your thigh and gently squeezed.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I’m sorry, it must seem so…paternalistic. I just…I’m a worrier, what can I say?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not offended. It’s sweet of you. Thanks.” You kept rolling along in the car. It was all good until you got to the rotary. “These rotaries make me nervous.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…we call them roundabouts…You’re doing fine…Keep that way…ehm…yes, that’s it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Roundabouts. Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. You’re doing great Honey.”</p><p> </p><p>The countryside rolled past. In your life, you had never seen so much green and so many different shades of it. Every once in a while, there would be some sheep and a cow or two. You had only passed two cars so far.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s really quiet here. Peaceful...I like it.” You started to relax a little bit. Your knuckles weren’t white and your shoulders finally lowered. The knot in your stomach loosened and the thought of coffee seemed enticing.</p><p> </p><p>“It <em>is</em> peaceful. I need it to write. My brain is busy enough on its own, I really do not need any more stimulation.” Andrew leaned back more and started looking out the side window. “Do you remember how to get there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes. I’m really good at directions. Besides, there is not much else out this way.” You laughed.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at you. “Too quiet for you? City gal that you are?”</p><p> </p><p>You shook your head. “Not at all. Remember, I grew up in a sleepy college town. It looked sort of like this with the seaside and the mountains. Though, we didn’t have quite as much livestock. Besides, Dublin isn’t far if I need some excitement.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, am I not exciting enough?” You didn’t look at him, your eyes were trained on the road, but you could hear the smile in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re exciting…sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>He dramatically clamped his hand over his heart and slouched over, as if he were physically wounded. “Ouch. That’s….accurate.”</p><p> </p><p>You stole a quick glance at him. He was clearly delighted. The coffee shop was on the left, so you put on your directional and pulled into the lot. After carefully parking the car, you shut off the engine and gave a dramatic sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“You did it. See? It wasn’t that bad, was it?” He looked really proud of you and a warmth filled your chest.</p><p> </p><p>“No. It wasn’t. You’re an excellent instructor.”</p><p> </p><p>He tipped his head to the side. “You already know how to drive.”</p><p> </p><p>“True.” You thought for a moment. “Ok, so you’re not an instructor, but you are a wonderful cheerleader. Thank you.” You got out the car and waited for him. He walked around and met you. His long arm wrapped around you and he pulled you into his side.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, are you hungry?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get you something to eat.” You started walking towards the shop. “Do you want to drive us home?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely not.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Sick Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi Everyone,</p><p>I wanted to let you know that I am still working on Long Distance. Unfortunately, I am dealing with a bad case of writer's block! I am trying to push through. </p><p>I did find this fic in my files. I wrote it months ago, but never posted it. It felt too much like Covid, but at least it is something new.</p><p>Thank you for the kind notes. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness.</p><p>Be well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was supposed to be a romantic getaway to Ireland. You had some vacation time and with the holiday weekend, it gave you a little extra time to be with Andrew. He was on a break from the tour, though he still had some press to do. It was the first time you would be staying at his house. Up until now, you alternated between tour hotels and your apartment. It was an exciting next step in your relationship.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, the sniffles that you boarded the plane with became a hacking cough by the time you landed in Dublin. When Andrew picked you up at the airport, he immediately voiced his concern. So, instead of rolling around a king size bed with your snack of a boyfriend, you were at the doctor getting a chest X-ray.</p><p> </p><p>The doctor diagnosed you with pneumonia. No romantic dinner, you were picking up medication at the “Chemist.”</p><p> </p><p>As you pulled into the parking lot you broke out in another coughing fit.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I think you better stay in the car. I’ll be quick.” Andrew grabbed his list and headed into the pharmacy. You leaned against the passenger side window. The cold glass was soothing on your hot skin, in fact it was the best thing you had ever felt. You were pretty sure you were delirious at this point.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. Are you ok?” He was back.</p><p> </p><p>“Grand!” You tried smiling at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh honey, let’s get you home.”</p><p> </p><p>You don’t remember the ride to his house or getting out of the car. You have a vague memory of being helped inside, given medicine and tucked into bed.</p><p> </p><p>When you woke up, it was still light out. You must have been asleep for a few hours. Your bladder was screaming and your mouth felt like paste so you went into the bathroom to pee. That is when you realized you were wearing one of Andrew’s t-shirts and nothing else. You didn’t remember changing.</p><p> </p><p>There was a tap on the door. “Honey, are you ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, just….give me a minute.” You rinsed your mouth and washed your hands. When you opened the door, Andrew was standing there looking worried. He immediately stepped close to you and started to kiss your forehead. Except he wasn’t kissing you. He was checking your temperature.</p><p> </p><p>“You still have the fever. Back to bed.” He ushered you back to the bed and under the sheets. “Here is some water, please…take your medicine.” You complied.</p><p> </p><p>You put your hand on his arm. “I am so sorry I fell asleep. I am definitely better now. Did you want to get dinner or something?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at you like you said all of that in Klingon. “Honey, you have been asleep for almost 18 hours.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t remember, do you? I had to change your clothes; you sweat through everything.” He smoothed your hair away from your face. “You poor thing. Let me get you some tea and toast. Oh, and soup.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you…um, babe?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah”</p><p> </p><p>“Where is my underwear?”</p><p>                                                                                                                                     </p><p>“Oh, that. Your suitcase is locked and I don’t know the combination.”</p><p> </p><p>“You could probably pick the lock.” You started coughing.</p><p> </p><p>“It didn’t even occur to me to try to break in.” His eyes were twinkling. “Food first, then clothing. Stay put. Doctor’s orders.”</p><p> </p><p>He came back with a tray that was loaded. All you could manage was the broth and the tea.  Then you tried to get out of bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, where are you going?”</p><p> </p><p>“To get some underwear…I feel a little exposed.”</p><p> </p><p>He tilted his head and smiled at you. “Ehm, I have seen you naked.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, that’s not the point.” You giggled. “Also, why are <em>you</em> blushing now?”</p><p> </p><p>He crossed the room to retrieve your suitcase and rolled it over next to the bed. “The code?”</p><p> </p><p>You smiled at him. “1-2-3-4.” Your chest was aching and rubbed it with your hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Not very secure.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my underwear not the crown jewels.”</p><p> </p><p>He scrunched up his face. “There is a joke in there, I’m sure.” He undid the lock and opened the case. You leaned over and pulled out some panties and fluffy socks.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it ok it I keep your shirt for now? It smells like you.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled. “Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, can you hand me my toiletry kit?”</p><p> </p><p>“Here…do you need help?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I think I am ok.” You got out of bed and crossed the room towards the bathroom. The room started to spin a little. Andrew grabbed hold of your arm.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I thought. Let me help you.” He shuttled you into the bathroom and made you sit on the closed toilet. “Stay there, please. I’ll fix your toothbrush.” He went to the sink and opened your toiletry kit, pulling out the toothpaste and brush.</p><p> </p><p>“Not such a romantic trip after all” You coughed again. “I’m sorry.” He handed you the toothbrush and you started using it.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…you are conveniently forgetting your third visit on tour, when I had the sinus infection.” You had forgotten. He was doped up with medication and steroids. All you could do was fetch him chicken soup and rub his back.</p><p> </p><p>You got up and spit in the sink. “So, it’s payback?” You rinsed your mouth and put the brush in the holder.</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s what you do when you love someone. What’s next?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was going to pee.” You smiled at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. I will be just outside the door.”</p><p> </p><p>You took care of your business, put on your panties and washed your hands. When you looked in the mirror, you saw that your hair was a fright, so you quickly braided it. The pallor of your complexion was decidedly grey. You started coughing again and it felt like your lungs were full of glass.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…Honey? Are you alright?” He was worried.</p><p> </p><p>You opened the door and smiled. “Yes, just really tired now.”</p><p> </p><p>He guided you to the bed and started to tuck you in. “Did you want your socks?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please, my feet are so cold.”</p><p> </p><p>He went back into the bathroom and returned with your socks. Carefully, he put them on your feet and then he tucked you into bed. “Ok.” He kissed your forehead. “Get some rest, I’ll be back in a bit.”</p><p> </p><p>You were asleep before he even left the room.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Someone was talking to you. You tried to open your eyes, but you were far too weak to do so. The room felt like a freezer and you could hear your own teeth chattering.</p><p> </p><p>A woman started speaking softly, but you couldn’t understand the words. Large, warm hands slid under your body and then you were in the air. “Ok. You can put her down.” And just like that you were back on earth.</p><p> </p><p>Someone was tugging your shirt up, you tried to stop them. “Honey, I’m sorry. You’re drenched. I need to get you into something dry.” You stopped fighting and before you knew it, you were in soft, warm clothes. You finally got the strength to open your eyes. The room was dark, except for a sliver of light from the bathroom. Sitting beside you was your mother.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom? Mommy?”</p><p> </p><p>She placed her hand on your forehead and gently stroked your skin. “It’s going to be ok. You just need to rest now.” Her smile was such a comfort. “Go to sleep sweetheart.” She pulled the blankets up around you.</p><p> </p><p>You didn’t want to sleep. You wanted to talk to her, but your body was giving out. Eventually, after hovering in the space between consciousness and sleep, you drifted off.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>When you woke up the next morning, the sun was shining bright. You finally felt like yourself, no fever and no chest pain. Again, you were wearing one of Andrew’s shirts, just not the one you were wearing last night. Next you to was your sweet, sleeping giant. He had dark circles under his eyes and you felt guilty that you were the reason for his fatigue.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. How are you feeling?” His hand was suddenly on your forehead, checking your temperature. “You’re nice and cool.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m good. Thank you.” You slid closer to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, you gave us quite the scare last night. Your fever got extremely high. Thank God it finally broke.”</p><p> </p><p>“I had the strangest dream.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled you into his side and you laid your head on his chest. “Tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I dreamed that my mother was here. Taking care of me….she kept telling me to sleep, but I wanted to talk to her.” You slid your hand under his shirt and absorbed his warmth. “It felt so real. It must have been the fever.”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a reflexive breath. “Ehm…that was my mam.”</p><p> </p><p>You sat up and looked at him. “Your mom? Oh.” You felt ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. Come here.” Andrew tugged on your shirt. You laid back down and tucked into the crook of his neck. “I called her because I was scared. You were burning up and shivering at the same time. I just…I didn’t know what to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh baby, I’m not mad. I just feel silly. I really thought…it seemed like she was really here. My mom.” Moments like these came at you sidewise and suddenly, you lost her all over again.</p><p> </p><p>He was playing with your hair, you listened to the beating of his heart. “Honey…I meant what I said yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>You were lost. “That’s good. What did you say?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I said that this is what you do for someone you love.”</p><p> </p><p>Now, you remembered. He had never said he loved you before. It was evident in his actions and in his thoughtfulness, but up until this point, it hadn’t been openly said. He rolled onto his side and looked at you. “I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>You placed your hand on his cheek. “I love you Andrew.”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t payback, it was what you did for the one you love.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Long Distance-Part 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for hanging in there with me and my writer's block. Many thanks to my friend, Sarah, for the support and the beta.</p><p>As always, I do not know Hozier. This is the product of an overactive imagination.</p><p>Be safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the day of the funeral. You had spent half the night crying and the other half in a fitful sleep. Andrew stayed wrapped around you throughout night. The solidity of his body had comforted you, but now, it pained you because he would soon be gone on tour. That meant endless nights alone and even though you knew that at the start, you began to panic at thought of it now.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, what are you thinking about?” You were still in bed, under the covers and in a little  cocoon with him. He brushed your hair out of your face and tried to get you to look at him. You shook your head and rolled back into him, tucking your head into crook of his neck.</p><p> </p><p>“I was thinking that you don’t smell like the sea.” Your lips felt cold against the heat of his skin.</p><p> </p><p>He wrapped his arm around you and started rhythmically stroking your back. “Do I normally smell like the sea? I hadn’t really noticed.” He spoke softly, but his voice vibrated through you like an earthquake.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes….and soap….and…” You inhaled deeply. “You…just you.” You slid your hand under his shirt and worked your way up his torso as you kissed his neck. The hairs on his chest were soft and yielding and you swirled your fingers in them.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey. We need to get up.” He kissed your forehead.</p><p> </p><p>You moved your hand down to his hip bone. “Please, I need a distraction?” You crept your fingers under the waistband of his boxers; Andrew stopped you with his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“As much I would love to, we don’t have time. We have to get ready for the funeral.”</p><p> </p><p>You rolled away from him. “I know that. I just…I want to skip it.”</p><p> </p><p>It felt like you had been flayed, skin peeled back and every inch of you exposed, raw and hot with pain. How many times must you do this? “I am just so tired.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you didn’t  get much sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Andrew. You don’t understand.” You rolled back towards him. “I’m tired... tired of death, tired of loss…tired of goodbyes.” Your voice sounded flat.</p><p> </p><p>At that he sat up. He let out a long breath and started scrubbing at his face with his hands. It was early and with the hotel’s blackout drapes the room was still dark. His figure was just a murky lump in the room. It felt like the middle of the night.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry…ehm…I...I’m sorry. Why don’t I go find us some coffee? You can use the shower first.” He climbed out of bed and felt around in the dark for his pants.</p><p> </p><p>You just lay there in the dark and listened. You could picture him sliding one long leg into his jeans, then the other and finally, you heard the zipper. It was a ritual you witnessed every day with him, but today was no ordinary day.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be right back.” He kissed you and when he left, he closed the door so quietly you barely heard it.</p><p> </p><p>As much as you wanted to stay hidden under the covers, you forced yourself to get up and into the shower. The water was a little too hot, like a punishment that you’d gladly accepted. After your shower, you pulled your hair into a low chignon, the way your mother wore hers and carefully applied your makeup. Emily had given you waterproof eyeliner and mascara to use <em>just in case</em>. When Andrew returned, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in your $20 dress waiting to bury your father.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” He was carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and some small paper bags. “I found a bagel place. Are you hungry?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not really, but I will take the coffee.”</p><p> </p><p>He handed you a paper cup. “You haven’t been eating much…at least not since I have been here. That’s not like you.”</p><p> </p><p>You looked up at him; the concern was etched on his face. “I know…I’m just not hungry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honey.” He knelt in front of you. “Please, try to have something, ok?” He kissed your forehead. “I‘m going to take a shower.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed his things and went into the bathroom. You heard the sound of the water running and Andrew dropping something, soap or shampoo. In the bag, there was a fruit and yogurt cup and a bagel sandwich. You forced yourself to eat the yogurt while you waited, but in the end, it tasted like paste and sat like lead in your stomach. Andrew started doing vocal warm-ups in the shower. Even the sound of his beautiful voice did nothing to ease your heartache. Eventually, he finished and came out wearing a towel around his waist. He pulled his suit out the closet and started to get dressed.</p><p> </p><p>You watched him while sipping your coffee. “Where did you get the suit? I don’t recognize it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…Caroline. She had someone come to the hotel in Prague, an older gentleman. He brought four different black suits and did the alterations on the spot.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s beautiful. You wear it well.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He smiled at you. At this point he was in his boxers, dress pants, socks, shoes and t-shirt. He started eating the bagel sandwich while standing up. “Are you doing the eulogy today?”</p><p> </p><p>You shook your head. “No. Sam is going to do it, but we wrote it together…before you got here.”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a breath. “I wish I’d gotten here sooner.” He sat down on the loveseat. “Heathrow was a disaster.” He stopped eating the sandwich. “I’m sorry for that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be. You’re here and I am so…relieved.” He was staring at something on the floor and you knew he was worrying. “Andrew, it’s your turn to eat.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded his head and resumed eating. The two of you finished getting ready in the quiet of the room. Sam called to let you know they were on their way over. The driver had gone to the townhouse first. When you got in the car, Sam and Emily were in the back. They looked as tired as you felt.</p><p> </p><p>“Pip, I meant to give you these yesterday, but my mind is…well, I found them in the top drawer of Dad’s dresser.” Sam handed you a small velvet bag and you recognized it immediately. There was a gold logo on the front that had faded with time. It was from the jewelry store in the town you grew up in. Dad used to buy gifts there for your Mom.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Sam…Mom’s pearls.” You pulled the necklace out of the bag and just stared at it. It was a double strand of pearls with a carved, platinum clasp. Simple and elegant, like your mother. You can remember playing dress up and she would let you wear them along with her lipstick and a spritz of her perfume.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you had them already.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dad gave me her jewelry when I graduated college, but the pearls were missing. I never mentioned it. I thought they were lost and…well, I didn’t want to upset him.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew held his hand out. “Let me help you with those.” You gave him the necklace and turned in your seat. He placed the pearls around your neck and carefully adjusted the clasp. “They look beautiful on you, Honey.” When you looked at Sam, he was close to tears; Emily was already there.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the drive was quiet. As you rode through campus, you looked out the window. Faculty members headed into buildings and students clutching their travel mugs chatted on the lawn. Life went on. When the car finally pulled up to the funeral home, you tried to steel yourself, but you felt weak and worn out. Your heart was utterly shattered and you just didn’t have it in you do this again. Then Andrew took your hand in his and whispered in your ear. “It’s ok. I’m here.”</p><p>He stayed by your side every step of the way, guiding you out of the car and into the funeral home for one last viewing of your Dad. He held your hand as you walked behind the casket and processed through the church. And when your brother read the eulogy, Andrew wrapped his arm around you tightly, tissues at the ready. The only time he left your side was to sing. Your parents weren’t musicians, but they were passionate music lovers. You asked Andrew to sing the Ave Maria and when your Aunts heard his voice, they burst into tears. It is a lovely song, but the way he sang it was achingly beautiful. Everyone was extremely moved, except you. All day you alternated between deep grief and complete detachment. At times it felt like an awful dream. Somehow you got through the day and did your job as the grieving daughter. There was another dinner with everyone who attended the service. You thanked everyone for coming and visited with family who had made the trip out. There were toasts and goodbyes. Sympathy cards were collected and plans were made for a family reunion before the end of the year. When it was finally over and you were back in the hotel, it started to sink back in. The sadness and loss twisted your insides and clouded your head. It wasn’t the first time you felt like this, but it was the first time that you worried you couldn’t bounce back. As you brushed your teeth, you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was if you had aged years in a day.</p><p> </p><p>When you went back into the room, Andrew was sitting up in the bed. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt; his long legs stretched out in front of him. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>He looked up at you. “Hey”</p><p> </p><p>“Where did you get the whiskey?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, Sam. He gave me the bottle before we left the restaurant. There’s a glass for you.” He gestured with his chin. On the small table by the loveseat was a bottle of Tullamore Dew and a full glass. You took it and made your way over to the bed and sat down.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew lifted his glass. “To your Dad. Slainte.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bon anima Dad.” You clinked your glass with Andrew’s and took a sip. The whiskey was slightly floral and very smooth. It warmed your throat as you swallowed it down.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“When do you have to go back?” You were dreading the answer.</p><p> </p><p>He was looking at you and you could tell he didn’t want to say. He swallowed before speaking and you watched his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat. “Ehm, the team wants me to fly back tomorrow night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>The electric heater clicked on and hot air blew at the curtains making room feel stuffy. There were people chatting in the hallway and you heard the sound of a door closing down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was looking into his glass when he spoke. “Honey? Are you coming home with me?” </p><p> </p><p>You sighed. “I have to stay and finish packing up Dad’s things. Sam and I are going to put them in storage. We’ll come back at another time and go through everything. It’s just… it’s too difficult to do it now.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the townhouse?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re still going to put it on the market. The realtor is listing it tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>He put his drink on the nightstand and pulled the sleeves of his shirt down over his hands. “When do think you’ll come back? To Ireland?”</p><p> </p><p>“I honestly don’t know. Everything is so…” You didn’t finish the sentence because you had no idea what was happening. You started to feel panicky and your breathing started getting shallow.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Honey, I’m sorry. It’s been such a long day. Come here.” He took your glass and lifted the blankets. You slid under them and back into your cocoon. Your body and mind gave in to your exhaustion and you fell asleep right away.</p><p> </p><p>A few hours later you woke up feeling anxious. The clock on the nightstand said it was 1:20 am. Andrew was stretched out next to you, hands behind his head. He was awake too.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ok?” His voice was barely a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>“I have no idea.”</p><p> </p><p>He turned onto his side and cupped your face with his hand. Neither of you knew what to say. You pressed your body against his and found his mouth. His breath was hot and his heart was pounding in his chest. Then he slid his hand into your hair and his tongue was in your mouth. You ran your hand down his body and gently stroked him. He moaned into your mouth and rolled his hips into your hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, are you sure?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” You needed this, to feel something other than pain and sadness. He searched your face in the dim light of the room. “Andrew, please, I want this. I want <em>you</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a reflexive breath. Then he rolled you onto your back and nudged your underwear down your legs. You helped him take off his own clothes. Gently, he eased inside of you and all you could focus on was the feel of his skin and the weight of his body. He paused and kissed you deeply. Then you moved against each other, finding your rhythm. And for a little while, the world outside didn’t exist and the sadness that gripped your heart faded away.  </p>
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<a name="section0036"><h2>36. New Orleans Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is set early in the tour and the relationship. Set in New Orleans. It's part one of two. Reminder that I do not know Hozier.</p><p>Enjoy. Be Safe.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dating someone who was constantly traveling was a new experience for you. Generally speaking, your previous relationships were pretty run-of-the-mill with both parties living in the same city. Not only was there a distance to overcome, but you were from different countries and cultures. You had spent a little time with Andrew in Ireland at the start of the tour. When he was in NYC, the two of you had a dinner date and he managed a quick lunch with you before leaving the city. However, the majority of the relationship was done via email, text and FaceTime. Every day he would send you something, a note, a poem or some article that he thought you would find interesting. You in turn shared tidbits of your life in the city. And, of course, there was a lot of chatting about music and different artists or composers that you loved. He had kissed you a few times and it was incredible, but that was the extent of the physicality. You were having a Victorian romance in a digital age and in a funny way, it gave you more insight into each other. There were no distractions to be had. No worries about what to do or where to dine.</p><p> </p><p>A couple of weeks ago, Andrew asked you to fly out to see him on tour. You definitely wanted to go, but you were concerned about a couple of things, one of which was making Rachel uncomfortable. After all, the tour was her workplace and you were getting involved with her boss.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous! Come see us on tour.” You were on the phone with Rachel. Andrew had spoken with her about your trip and she immediately reached out.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p> </p><p>“You and your Catholic upbringing…so by the book! Of course, but only if I can steal you for a few hours. I already told Andy. He will be over the moon by the way!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s a good guy. There’s nothing to worry about. If it doesn’t work out, it won’t be a problem…not for you or for me. I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>You took a moment to think about it. Rachel is like a sister and you trusted her judgement and her word. “I guess I will see you soon then!!”</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>The next night Andrew FaceTimed you from the bus. He was tucked into his bunk, blankets pulled up to his chin. He looked so sleepy and sweet.</p><p> </p><p>“How was the concert?”</p><p> </p><p>“It went really well. We had an outrageous crowd tonight; they sang every word. Now we’re on to the next venue.” He rubbed at his eyes.</p><p>“Do you even know where you are headed to?”</p><p> </p><p>He scrunched his face up. “Ehm…no.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know how you guys do it. Back to back shows…sleeping on buses.”</p><p> </p><p>“You get used to it. How are you? How was your day?”</p><p> </p><p>“Busy. I had a full schedule of patients and a very long staff meeting.” You paused and looked at him. “Can I talk to you about something?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew sat up a little bit. “Of course…is everything ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh…yes! Sorry. I didn’t mean to…it’s just…I…” You were tripping over your thoughts and your words. This was a complicated conversation in person, trying to do it over FT was excruciating.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. Hey…it’s just me.” He gave you such a tender look, it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.</p><p> </p><p>You let out a long breath. “Thanks. It’s never <em>just you</em> by the way.”</p><p> </p><p>His smile was a mile wide, eyes twinkling. “What’s on your mind?”</p><p> </p><p>“I probably should have talked to you sooner but…this has moved along really quickly. I’ve never dated anyone where flying was involved.” You were stalling a little bit. “Andrew…I am not someone that can be casual about sex. I’m just not wired that way. Separating my feelings from the physical aspect is just impossible for me. So….I...”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Oh Christ! This is not…a booty call. I mean, not that I am not interested, I am, totally, but…that not’s why I invited you…Ehm…there is no expectation of anything…Ehm, I wanted to…” His cheeks were bright red and he was clearly flailing. “Wow, that was spectacularly bad, wasn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>You started laughing. “We are like a couple of nervous teenagers! What’s wrong with us?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was laughing now too. Hand in his hair, he was shaking his head. “I am no better at this now than I was at 16.” The two of you laughed for a bit and it felt good. “Ehm…I’m sorry. I know that this is a very strange way to date.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is, but it’s exhilarating too.” You smiled at him.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew took a moment, then he spoke softly and calmly. “I never want you to feel like you can’t talk to me and I certainly would <em>never </em>expect anything from you.” He looked right at you. “I just want to spend time with you. Everything else, we can figure it out as it comes.”</p><p>“Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, I will see you soon?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Absolutely.”</p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>The flight to New Orleans was easy. You took advantage of the time to read a little and listened to a new podcast. You packed light and carried everything on the plane. So, when you landed, you were able to go straight to the pick-up area. Andrew sent a car for you to make things easy. Your driver was a young guy named Daniel who looked like a golf pro with his intense tan and polo shirt. He had a New Orleans accent which, to you, sounds like a drunken New York accent. He took your suitcase and led you to the lot.</p><p> </p><p>“Ma’am. My car is the black Escalade.” He nodded in the direction of his SUV. It was brand new with shiny rims and was already running. “Allow me.” He opened the door for you and Rachel stuck her head out. The two of you started screaming like a couple of sorority girls at a reunion.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re here!!! Get in here. It’s hotter than hades out there.” She took your purse with one hand and yanked you in the car with the other.</p><p> </p><p>“You are crazy! And I love you for it.” You hugged for a while before the driver interrupted.</p><p> </p><p>“Ladies, can you buckle up, please?”</p><p> </p><p>Rachel answered. “Of course! And thank you Daniel. For helping with the surprise!!”</p><p> </p><p>He flashed his megawatt smile in the rearview mirror. “Pleasure.”</p><p> </p><p>The ride from the airport to the hotel was about 20 minutes long. The band and the production team were staying in the French Quarter at a small hotel near the venue. Andrew was busy with interviews, but was going to meet you at 5:00 pm.</p><p> </p><p>Rachel was excited to see you and talked a mile a minute. “How was the flight? Are you hungry? We can go to the Napoléon House for a muffuletta. You remember that place from our trip, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“The flight was easy, getting to JFK was a whole other story…as usual. And I ate so early, I could eat anything at this point. How long do I have you?”</p><p> </p><p>Rachel smiled. “I am free until 5:00 pm.” She gave you a knowing look. “Are you excited to see Andy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Are you freaking out about it?” She knew you too well.</p><p> </p><p>“You know I am Rach.” She reached across the seat gave your hand a squeeze.</p><p> </p><p>Rachel looked out the window. “It seems like we were just here for JazzFest, but that was two years ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“We definitely have to do that again. Maybe next time, you’ll be onstage.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like that idea!”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>The hotel seemed more like a B&amp;B. It was small, furnished elegantly and the staff were extraordinarily friendly. The bellhop ushered you to your room which was actually a full suite. There was a large soaking tub in the bathroom, a small sitting room and a balcony overlooking the street. A bouquet of pale, creamy flowers sat on the nightstand and there was a handwritten note from Andrew with it.</p><p> </p><p>Rachel flopped on the bed. “This is gorgeous! He really went all out! Um…what does it say?” She was teasing you.</p><p> </p><p>You looked at her. “You really want to know?”</p><p> </p><p>She sat up. “Of course!! But everyone needs their secrets, so no.” She leveled a look at you. “You deserve this. The attention, the romance. He is the real deal. Enjoy it.”</p><p> </p><p>You put the note back in its envelope and absorbed her words. After freshening up, the two of you made your way to the restaurant. The Napoléon House is one of the oldest establishments in New Orleans. It sits on a corner in the French Quarter. The walls are heavily patinaed with aging paint and everything has a wonderful shabbiness to it. In addition to its old-world ambiance, it has some of the best cocktails and food in town. The host seated you by one of the many French doors which were open to the street. Rachel ordered for the two of you as soon as you sat down.</p><p> </p><p>“It looks like the shift change. Should be some good people watching.” Rachel was vibrating with energy.</p><p> </p><p>You grabbed her hands across the table. “You look so happy. I am delighted for you.”</p><p> </p><p>She squeezed your hands. “Thank you. I really am very happy.” The waiter showed up with two Pimm’s cups; the glasses glistened with condensation and the trademark cucumber garnish looked refreshingly cold. You forgot how oppressively humid Louisiana could be. After thanking the waiter, Rachel raised her glass and made a toast. “To friendship.”</p><p> </p><p>You felt a wave of happiness come over you. “To friendship. So, tell me everything. How is it going? What’s the best city you have played so far?”</p><p> </p><p>Rachel has been a gigging musician and performer since graduation. She has her own band and has worked as a background vocalist for several others, but this was the first international tour she has ever done and the longest.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything has been perfect…Everyone on the team is so hardworking. The chemistry in the band is off the charts…and the production is top-notch. It all starts with Andy. He is crazy talented and so sweet.” She took a sip of her drink. “But he knows what he wants and that makes it easy. It really has been a dream come true!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you.”</p><p> </p><p>Rachel smiled at you. For the next two hours, you caught up, people-watched and ate too much. It was a perfect afternoon in the Crescent City.</p><p>---</p><p>Andrew was supposed to come see you in your room at 5:00 pm. You were excited and anxious about seeing him. You brushed and flossed your teeth, silently cursing yourself for eating such a garlic-filled meal earlier. The southern humidity had wreaked havoc with your curls which were now full of frizz, so you attempted to smooth them out with some product with marginal success. As you debated an outfit change, there was a knock at the door. It was Andrew and he was 20 minutes early. You peered at him through the peephole and you could tell he was as nervous as you. He was wringing his hands and pacing slightly in the hall. It only endeared him more to you. You took pity on him and opened the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I know I’m early.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ok. Come in, please.” You stepped back so he could come into the room. After closing the door, you turned around. Andrew stepped towards you and enveloped you in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“I couldn’t wait to see you.” He kissed the top of your head and you melted into him . “Ehm, sorry, is this ok?”</p><p> </p><p>You wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed. “Yes, don’t be silly.” He was wearing a striped, cotton shirt; it felt soft against your cheek and under your fingers. Andrew nuzzled his nose into your hair. The two of you stayed embraced for a while, not speaking, just enjoying the feeling of being close. This is what you wondered about. How would it feel to be in his physical orbit? There was an emotional intimacy that had developed between the two you, but how would that translate once you were in the same room for longer than a couple of hours?</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you so much.” The way he said thank you with a hard “t” tickled your ear.</p><p> </p><p>You were confused. “For what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Making the trip.” He let go of you and stepped back to make eye contact. “This is much nicer in person.”</p><p> </p><p>Your heart was suddenly in your throat and your cheeks were burning. He gently smoothed a curl off of your forehead. You shifted your focus from his mossy-green eyes to his lips. They were pink and you remembered the way the felt against your own. He licked them then and lowered his face to yours as you got on your tiptoes to meet him halfway. He kissed you gently at first, tentatively, but then you sank into each other. His breath was hot in your mouth and he tasted like wintergreen lifesavers. One of his large hands curled possessively around your ribcage, the other cradled the back of your head. His tongue was velvety and he explored your mouth with it. When you slid your hands under his shirt and touched his soft skin, he moaned with pleasure. The sound of your blood rushing filled your ears and you felt lightheaded. Andrew kept a firm grip on you and you pressed against him for balance. When he finally broke the kiss, you were dizzy and wanting. Andrew gave you a lopsided grin and a pink blush crept over his features. Your lipstick was smeared across his mouth and it made you happy to see him marked by you.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry.” You ran your fingers over his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew tilted his head.</p><p> </p><p>“My lipstick. It’s all over your face. It was supposed to be kiss-proof!”</p><p> </p><p>He loosened his hold on you and smiled. “I can think of worse things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for the lovely room, it even has a balcony.” You took him by the hand and led him into the suite.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the least I can do.” He peered into the bathroom. “Oh good.”</p><p> </p><p>You were befuddled. “Are you surprised there is a bathroom?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm...no!” He laughed. “I know you like to take long baths. So, I asked for a room with a tub.”</p><p> </p><p>It was true. You loved soaking in the tub with a bath bomb or oil. Unfortunately, your New York apartment only had a shower stall. You couldn’t even remember the last time you got to take a bath. At some point in one of your many conversations, you must have told him, but you honestly couldn’t remember. The fact that he did made your heart flip.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Andrew. I…I really appreciate it.” You gave him a tender kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I don’t mean to kill the mood, but do you have any water?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Of course.” You went over to the mini fridge and started pulling bottles out. “Let’s see…we have sparkling water, sparkling water with lemon, flat water and electrolyte water.”</p><p> </p><p>“Still water is grand.”</p><p> </p><p>You handed him the bottle and took the sparkling one for yourself.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. I have never been in a place so humid and still, I am dying of thirst.” He opened the bottle and started aggressively drinking it.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the air conditioning. It dries you out. Do you have a humidifier for your room?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, no.”</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously, you need one. You could be like Mariah Carey and have five of them!”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was giggling. “That’s me. Super-Diva.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s what I tell everyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“That I’m a diva?” His hair was down and he was wearing his glasses that make him look like a philosophy tutor. “I’m offended.” He placed his hand on his chest in a dramatic fashion.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really think anyone would believe me? Come on. Let’s get you out of the AC.” You led him out onto the balcony. It was rod-iron and had a café table and two chairs. “Oh, look.” Down in the street there was a trio busking. People were gathered around them and a couple was dancing. The two of you leaned on the railing and watched the activity in the street.</p><p> </p><p>“I love this city.” Andrew spoke in a whisper, like it was a secret between the two of you. The afternoon was sliding into the evening. The sun was low in the sky and the clouds were crimson. You watched as people went into the restaurant across the street. The scent of garlic hung heavy in the air. “Ehm, I made reservations for dinner after the show…for the two of us.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am looking forward to it.” You went and sat at the little table.</p><p> </p><p>“So, the band heads over early. You’re welcome to join us on the bus or I can have someone bring you over later.” He finished the water in his bottle.</p><p> </p><p>“I would love to come over with you guys, but if that would be too distracting, I can wait.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew shook his head. “You could never be a distraction, but…” He furrowed his brows and looked at you. “When we get over there, please don’t think I am ignoring you...ehm.” He was worried and searching for the right words.</p><p> </p><p>You reached across the table and grabbed his hand. It was cold even though it was so hot out and you caressed it with your thumb. “Andrew, you’re working. I understand completely. Don’t worry.” His phone chirped then with a text, a reminder from the team no doubt. He took it out of his pocket and read the message.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I have to go.” He gave you a sorrowful look. “The bus leaves in an hour. Can I swing by to get you a little before?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. I’ll be ready.” He gave you a quick kiss before getting up and heading towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew! Wait…one minute.” You went inside and to the bathroom where you got your makeup kit. You found what you were looking for and headed back into the room. Andrew was standing in the middle of the room looking perplexed.</p><p> </p><p>You held up the makeup remover cloth to show him. “The lipstick! Let me get it off you.”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. You stood in between his long legs and you could see his hand move out of the corner of you eye; he carefully took hold of your thigh. “This should take it off.” He tipped his head to you and he looked like a child getting his face washed. It only took a few swipes with the cloth before all the evidence was gone. “Ok, you’re all set.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, but I can’t kiss you now.” He made a frown.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s plenty of time for that later.” You kissed the top of his head and then stepped back. “Ok, get out! I need to figure out what I am wearing. I’ll see you soon.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled broadly at you and it was positively electric. You were swooning inside. “I’ll be back. Be ready!” He winked, but with both eyes in that odd way of his and then he was gone.</p><p> </p><p>To Be Continued…</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. New Orleans-Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Never say "good luck" to a performer. Tell an actor to Break a Leg! Tell a dancer Merde (it's French). And tell a singer Toi, Toi, Toi.</p><p>As always, I do not know Hozier. </p><p>Be well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>No sooner had Andrew left the room, when you realized you forgot to ask a crucial question. So you texted him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>straight to dinner after…or change at the hotel</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>you choose</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>change at the hotel</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>ok see you soon</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>At 5 minutes to the hour, Andrew was at your door. He had changed into an all-black outfit and had a messenger bag slung across his body. You were wearing Rachel's black leather pants with a black top. She insisted you wear them. When Andrew saw you in the pants, he blinked a few times and seemed to lose his train of thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…ehm…ready?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” You closed the door behind you. It was then you saw the rest of the band in the hallway. They were being shuttled down the hall by Caroline, the tour manager. She was wearing an earpiece and was carrying a bag and a clipboard. Everyone was smiling, but focused. There is an energy build up before a performance. Some people are jovial and loose while others are reserved and quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Before you got on the elevator, Caroline handed you a lanyard with <em>Hozier Tour</em> credentials to wear. Andrew smiled. “Now, you’re legitimate.” As you rode the elevator down, he leaned against you and it made your chest fill with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time.</p><p> </p><p>In the lobby, Caroline started directing everyone to two large white vans. Andrew went to take your hand when Rachel called you to sit in the far back seat with her. “Shorties in the back!” She was laughing and it reminded you of all the ridiculous adventures you had together during college. So, you clambered into the back of the van and wedged yourself between Rachel and Kristen. Andrew got in the front seat.</p><p> </p><p>It was starting to feel less like a date and more like a high school field trip where you and the boy you like keep getting separated by your friends. Rachel leaned over and whispered in your ear, “You look great, those pants are working for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did he say?”</p><p> </p><p>You whispered. “Nothing….but I think his brain short-circuited.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like our Andy.” Rachel was totally pleased with herself; you could tell by the wide smile.</p><p> </p><p>At that moment, Andrew turned around and locked eyes with you. He gave you a quick smile and a wink before turning back around. Kristen saw the whole thing and bumped knees with you. Apparently, you had a new member to your squad.</p><p> </p><p>The ride over was relatively quiet. Rory was sitting in the middle row, lightly drumming with his hands. Kristen was humming something softly and Andrew was looking out the window, taking it all in. The venue was not far from the hotel and when you arrived, the driver took the van around the back to the performers entrance. The minute Andrew got out of the vehicle, he was flanked by a couple members of the team. They ushered him into the building and out of sight. The girls took you with them to the green room.</p><p> </p><p>Down in the green room, the energy level was starting to rise. Everyone was getting excited for the gig. Different people came in and out of the room. Jessica was making tea in the little kitchenette and the men attacked the food trays that were left out for everyone. You pilfered some ice-cold pineapple before it disappeared. Caroline came in the room and announced that there was going to be one last sound check. So, the band headed upstairs to the stage.</p><p> </p><p>Caroline turned to you. “Andrew asked if you would come up and listen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, of course. Thanks Caroline.”</p><p> </p><p>You made your way upstairs and into the theatre. The sound and tech guys were hard at work. One of the guys recognized you from Dublin and gave you a nod. It looked like they replacing a couple of amps onstage; something must have shorted out. The ushers were walking through the seats, checking for trash and the lighting guys were running cues. When the band came out onto the stage, you got a little misty-eyed. Watching your dearest friend, living her dream and being so happy made you emotional. She must have known how you were feeling because she searched for you in the audience and pulled a funny face. You gave her a thumbs up.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Andrew came striding out onto the stage. He looked even taller than in person, if that was even possible. You had no idea where he came from, but he had his game face on. Murt handed him one of the electric guitars and they started soundcheck. Everything sounded great, but there was a soft, low buzz coming from one of the speakers. The guys were running back and forth dealing with it. Finally, the problem was fixed. Andrew looked out at you and gestured for you to come onstage. So, you left the house and went through the labyrinth of stairs and passages to the stage. When you finally got there, Andrew was nowhere in sight.</p><p> </p><p>Murt was stationed in his corner of stage right. The racks around him were filled with acoustic and electric guitars. It was like a candy store for musicians. He was stooped over his workbench, methodically going through his checklist for tonight’s performance. When he saw you, he broke into a broad smile and called you over. “Are you looking for himself?”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I was supposed to meet him here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you got me instead. How are you love?” He pulled out a stool for you to sit on. You were happy to sit and chat about the gear that he had recommended for your patients. Some of it you were able to get your hands on, but you still had some items on your wish list. Murt had some ideas for getting donations for your little band.</p><p> </p><p>You felt a large hand on your back. It was Andrew. “Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I came up here looking for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. I was trying to make an escape, but they caught me. I didn’t mean to ditch you.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I have had a lovely chat with Murt.”</p><p> </p><p>Murt smiled. “Ah, it’s my pleasure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I steal you for a moment?” Andrew seemed a little nervous.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, excuse me Murt.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew took you by the hand and led you behind the side curtain and further backstage. There were travel cases and people working , everyone nodded at the two of you. He ducked into a side room, pulling you with him and closed the door. It wasn’t a room as much as a glorified storage closet. He just stood there looking at you, smiling like the Cheshire cat.</p><p> </p><p>You heart was thudding in your chest. “Can I help you Mr. Byrne?”</p><p> </p><p>He just shook his head and closed the space between you. His mouth locked onto yours; you grabbed fistfuls of his hair and held on. Soon you were a tangle of lips and tongues. Andrew kissed his way down to your neck and sucked on the tender skin there. He licked across your collar bone and nibbled your ear. You dragged your hands down his chest and over his stomach which elicited a groan from him. His large hands grasped your hips. He came back to your mouth and his lips felt so soft and lush; you started to imagine them in a different place altogether.</p><p> </p><p>“You taste like pineapple.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” You were breathless at this point.</p><p> </p><p>“You taste like pineapple.” His voice was low, almost a growl and it traveled down your spine like an electrical charge. “Is this ok? I want to touch your skin.” His fingers were skirting the hem of your shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes.” He slipped his hands underneath and danced his fingers over your flesh. The tips of his fingers were slightly callused. It occurred to then, that you hadn’t been touched like this in a long time.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew started to kiss you again. You sucked on his lower lip; his whiskers tickled your chin. Then, there was there was a knock at the door.</p><p> </p><p>You both froze in place. Andrew’s eyes were wide as saucers. You held your breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew?” It sounded like Caroline. He scrunched his whole face tightly, like a naughty schoolboy getting caught by the principal.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” He tightened his hold on you.</p><p> </p><p>“The house is open…curtain in 30.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…thanks. I’ll be right out.” You could hear Caroline’s footsteps as she walked away.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, I can’t go out there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone is going to know that you defiled me in here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Defiled? I guess that’s better than deflowered.” His cheeks were bright red and he was full of mischief.</p><p> </p><p>You started giggling uncontrollably. “It’s not funny.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows shot up. “Then why are you laughing?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t help it...maybe, I’ll just stay in here.”</p><p> </p><p> He tipped his head to the side. “Ehm…for the concert?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, or possibly forever. I mean it’s not bad, it’s a little smaller than my apartment, but not by much.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew took an appraising look at the space. “True. You could try to make it work, but no kitchen and no jacks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, so now, you’re ruining my plans? This is your fault you know.”</p><p> </p><p>He was smirking.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this what you do? Take unsuspecting women into storage closets?”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned in to kiss you some more. “Yes. You’ve found me out.” He stopped your nervous giggling with his lips. His hands slid back under your shirt and caressed you tenderly. It was impossible to think, he was intoxicating in every way.</p><p> </p><p>When he spoke into your ear, his breathing was heavy. “I should probably be heading down to get ready.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>He kissed you again and then you took a step back and looked him over. His hair was sticking out in every direction from your hands raking through it. Luckily, you only wore lip gloss to the show, but his clothes were disheveled and he looked a little drunk. “Andrew, you’re a mess.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh…ah.” He started tucking his shirt in and straightening out his jacket.</p><p> </p><p>“Your hair…sorry…let me fix it.” He bent down so you could reach and you finger-combed it back into place. You gave him a quick peck before releasing him.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about me?” You took a compact out of your little bag and checked your reflection. Not too much damage.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re perfect.” He stroked your cheek with his hand and you leaned into his warm touch. “Come on. We better go.”</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully no one was outside the room. Andrew grabbed your hand and you made a hasty getaway down to the green room where the team and the band were all together. Rachel arched her brow at you and smiled. Caroline, ever the professional, acted like nothing happened. Andrew, however, looked guilty as sin and you found it incredibly sweet. You took a mental note, that he wasn’t much of a liar. Not that the situation merited it.</p><p> </p><p>The intensity was building as it got closer to show time. You wanted to get out to your seat before long, so gave your best wishes to everyone and started to make your way to the house of the theatre. Andrew followed you into the stairwell. You could hear the audience making their way to their seats. You gave Andrew a quick kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll see you in the green room after?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course…I can’t wait to hear you guys.”</p><p> </p><p>He kissed you and started to head back.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Andrew…toi, toi, toi!”</p><p> </p><p>To be continued……</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. New Orleans-Part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Concerts. Dinner. Cuddling.</p><p>I do not know Hozier.</p><p>Please be well and safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The Andrew you had come to know is a true introvert. He is bookish, quiet, thoughtful and super nerdy. He spends most of his time on the tour bus reading books on physics and philosophy or exploring different poets. If he’s not reading, he’s playing video games on his Switch. So watching him onstage is a revelation. The gig at the Academy was phenomenal, but it was a rehearsal and on a very small stage with a very small house filled with friends and family. Tonight was a totally different story. It was a full concert with visual effects and full lighting design. The audience was huge with dedicated fans and Andrew was the center of all of it. He held every single person’s attention with his intensity and talent. And watching him play with such abandon and full-throated joy was a revelation. You owned his first album and loved it, but you were so glad that you had not searched for him on the internet or gone down a rabbit hole on You Tube. Watching him live was a total joy and an insight into this complex and fascinating man.</p><p> </p><p>Visiting him on tour gave you a front row seat to his working life and it seemed a daunting task. He was pulled in many directions; meeting obligations, performing, greeting fans and doing press. You knew that every night after a show, he would go outside and meet as many fans as he could, no matter how late it was or how cold. Often, his team had to pull him away to keep the bus on time. By all accounts, his fans were an amazing group of people. They brought gifts of art, handmade scarves and hats, tea, chocolates and so much more. Many fans were emotional, telling him how his music had comforted them or inspired them. Rachel told you it was obvious that Andrew tried to make each meeting special and listened carefully to what every individual had to share with him. Knowing how important music was to you and how it helped you in your darkest times, you saw what he did as a real kindness and a gift.</p><p> </p><p>There was no meet and greet tonight, however. Right after the concert ended, a car service whisked you and Andrew back to the hotel so you could change and freshen up before dinner. Your reservation was at midnight and you only had a little time to get ready. Rachel’s pants were definitely sexy. You looked great in them, but they were vegan leather and hotter than hell. So you peeled them off, took a quick shower and put on a light floral dress. In an effort to match his height, you wore your platform wedge sandals.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew changed into dressier pants and a white linen button-down shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower and he had it pulled back neatly in a bun. He took his contacts out and was wearing some tortoise-shell glasses. All he needed was a leather bag and a book to complete his sexy college professor look.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting in the back seat of the car, Andrew was very quiet. He looked out the window into the streets that were packed with people who were definitely the opposite of quiet. There were people of all ages, some with drinks, some without, some were dancing and others were singing. New Orleans knew how to host a party. Suddenly, he took hold of your hand and rubbed it softly with his thumb. “Ehm…sorry. I’m just a little…” He shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ok, you’re still coming down.” You squeezed his hand. “I get it.”</p><p> </p><p>He held your gaze and then he let out a long breath. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The restaurant was located in the business district and it was an old New Orleans institution. Andrew made reservations for private dining. When you got there, the host greeted you with a broad smile and the warm hospitality the city is famous for.</p><p> </p><p>“We reserved the Cornstalk room for you, Mr. Byrne. Please, this way.” The host led you through the front dining room and into the kitchen. Andrew shot you a quizzical look which you returned. Then your host proceeded to introduce you to the kitchen staff and chef de cuisine. Everyone stopped what they were doing to say hello and smile. Then he brought you up a few stairs into the private room. It was actually a large glass conservatory on the back of the restaurant. Outside was a private garden making the whole space very private. There were a number of tables, but you were only ones there. Your host seated you and disappeared back into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew looked around the room. “It looks like it’s just us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you trying to impress me Mr. Byrne?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely.” He looked at the menu. “Let’s order the most expensive wine they have!”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s one here for $10,000.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh God, I was kidding.”</p><p> </p><p>You winked at him. “Better to spend it on a guitar. I’m in a martini mood anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned over and kissed you quickly. “Guitars are my weakness.”</p><p> </p><p>Your waiter arrived and took your drink order; a vodka martini with an olive for you and red wine for Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>“So, the show was incredible. Seeing all the pieces come together, it was amazing. Are you happy with it?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was not great at taking compliments. He was always grateful and polite, but you could see it in the way he ducked his head and hunched shoulders that it made him uncomfortable. “Thank you so, so much. Yeah. I am happy with it…ehm…there are always things you would want to improve, but I think it’s really come together.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nicely balanced. The lighting and the visual design really work with the music, but nothing is overpowering.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. The team is crazy talented. Steven, especially, did a grand job.”</p><p> </p><p>The waiter returned with your drinks. Andrew made a toast in Irish and you could see he was starting to relax. The adrenaline was ebbing and he was coming back down to earth. The chef de cuisine came in from the kitchen. He introduced himself and offered to do a tasting menu, if you were interested. Andrew was famished and gave an enthusiastic, yes.</p><p> </p><p>The first course was chargrilled oysters with beurre blanc and a small charcuterie board with local sausages and cheeses.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I hope you like oysters!” He was digging into them with abandon.</p><p> </p><p>“I grew up in New England, I love all seafood…wow, these are insanely good.” The oysters were succulent, briny and sweet. “Do you like oysters?” You were being snarky.</p><p> </p><p>He arched his brow. “Ehm…I live on an island, it’s a basic requirement.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, so you eat more than just corned beef and cabbage?”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head and stuck his tongue in cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I forgot, you eat potatoes too. How am I doing?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was laughing now. “Ehm, you’re grand. Right on the money.”</p><p> </p><p>The second course was a duo of soups; turtle and a crab bisque. There was a wine change for Andrew and a fresh martini for you.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you eat like this every night on tour?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. We get a chef’s tasting every night on the bus. It’s always excellent, but bumpy.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, no soup?”</p><p> </p><p>He took a sip from his spoon. “Absolutely not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, this is definitely one of the best dates I have ever been on.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked slightly disappointed. “One of the best? Not <em>the</em> best?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, there was a boy in my 5<sup>th</sup> grade class who took me to his Mom’s for peanut butter and fluff sandwiches.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ahh…that would be hard to beat.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, this is definitely a close second.” You sipped from your glass and the shards of ice danced on your tongue.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…maybe there are peanut butter sandwiches in the next course!” Andrew was fully relaxed now; his face was bright and expressive and his eyes sparkled. It was the first time this whole day that you saw him like this.</p><p> </p><p>The next course did not, in fact, have peanut butter sandwiches. There was a golden beet salad with pistachio brittle and a crispy pork cheek with smoky collard greens. This was the very definition of food porn. Andrew enjoyed everything and you had a feeling he had a hollow leg. The main course was a bone-in rib eye with crab, asparagus and béarnaise for Andrew. You had the lobster and burrata ravioli with tomato and brandy sauce.</p><p> </p><p>In between bites, Andrew rolled his eyes. “I think I am having an out-of-body experience. You have to try this!” He gave you a forkful of his meal and it was delicious. You gave him some ravioli in return.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s class! God, I really do love Italian food.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really? That’s good to know.” You smiled at him.</p><p> </p><p>He tipped his head and shyly asked you, “ehm, will you cook for me sometime? Rachel says you’re a fantastic cook.”</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely, I would love to.”</p><p> </p><p>You ate what you could of your entrée; Andrew finished his. Then the waiters cleared the table and the chef returned. You chatted about the meal and he offered you dessert, but you had to decline. There was no more room for food, but the two of you accepted another round of drinks. They brought a house-made limoncello for you and a whiskey neat for Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>As you sat and drank, he took your hand and rubbed the palm of it. “This is the first time on tour that I have been this relaxed, this…at peace. Thank you for coming to see me. I know it’s a bit of a disruption for you.”</p><p> </p><p>You leaned towards him. “Relationships and touring must be complicated to manage.”</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed. “It is. I think it’s harder on the person at home base.” His expression became very serious.</p><p> </p><p>You took your hand from his and rubbed the furrow in his brow. “Andrew, did you want to tell me something?” You cradled his face in your hand and your pinky finger was over the artery in his neck. You could feel the pulsing of his blood and the warmth of his skin.</p><p> </p><p>“How do you always know what to say to me?” He took hold of your hand again and kissed it. He took a moment to think. “I haven’t been very good this…the relationship and touring thing. Balance is not my strong suit.”</p><p> </p><p>You took your hand from his and sat back a little. “Do you want to…be good at it, that is?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “Yeah. At this point in my life…ehm…with you…yes. I do. I wanted to be honest and to give you a chance to get out before things got complicated.” He started biting his lip.</p><p> </p><p>It was complicated and if you were being completely honest; it was far from ideal. Unfortunately, there was nothing to done because you had fallen for him long ago, at the very start and there was no going back for you.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Andrew, it’s too late for that.” You kissed him. “We’ll just have to figure it out.”</p><p> </p><p>He paid the bill and on the way out, you thanked everyone in the kitchen for the incredible meal. The car service was waiting out front for you. The clock in the car said 2:30 am and you started to feel like you were turning into a pumpkin. You had gotten up at 5:00 this morning and were now running on fumes. So was Andrew. He started to resemble a very tall, very tired zombie. When you got to your hotel room door, he gave you a quick kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I have to apologize. I am so tired.” He looked like he was going to fall over.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, thank God. I am too! Would you like to sleep here with me? Just sleep. I am falling down.” Actually, you felt a little delirious too.</p><p> </p><p>His face lit up with a smile. “Yeah. Definitely.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. Give me 10. I need to change and wash my face.</p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes later he appeared at your door. He was wearing sweatpants and a Lake Street Drive t-shirt. He had his phone, room key and a little case with him. You ushered him into the room quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s in the case?”</p><p> </p><p>His face turned crimson. “Ehm…it’s my retainer.” That was it. He was the cutest, sweetest, goofiest thing you had ever encountered and you were utterly besotted by him.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re smart. I lost mine years ago. Now my teeth are shifting.” You made your way over to the bed. “Do you have a side you sleep on?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only when it’s big enough.”</p><p> </p><p>You got in on the right side and he took the left. The sheets and duvet were clean, soft and smelled like lavender. Andrew reached out for you under the covers.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this ok?”</p><p> </p><p>You slid over, took up residence in the crook of his neck and wrapped your arm around him. “It is now.” He stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head. You don’t remember anything after that because you fell blissfully asleep.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Long Distance-Part 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It still didn’t seem real to you. Even though there was a wake and a funeral, you fully expected your father to call you and tell you a bad joke or ask some bit of obscure literary trivia that no one outside of his graduate-level class would ever know. His possessions were boxed, labeled and stacked neatly in the storage unit that Sam found. The townhouse was on the market and according to the realtor, because of its ideal location, it wouldn’t be long before offers came in.</p><p> </p><p>Sam was driving the two of you to the seaside to get lobster rolls. He had to go back to D.C. tomorrow and you were flying back to Dublin tonight. The weather was starting to warm up; you had the windows down and the radio turned up.</p><p> </p><p>“I really like this little car. It feels like we’re coasting all the time!”</p><p> </p><p>“It does. What do you want to do with it  by the way?” Sam was a little tall for the car, his head was about an inch away from the roof. You couldn’t imagine Andrew fitting in it at all.</p><p> </p><p>“Do with it?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam looked at you quickly. “Well, technically, half of it is yours.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” You really hadn’t thought about it, the estate that is. Half of everything belonged to you now. “I don’t know Sam. I can’t really wrap my mind around any of this right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. I’m sorry…I guess you can’t really use it in Ireland? Can you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not with the steering wheel on the correct side, no!”</p><p> </p><p>“How’s that going?” Sam had his hand out the window and holding onto the roof of the car.</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, I’m starting to get used to driving on the left side, but if we have a long trip anywhere, I let Andrew do it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you drive over there?” Sam inherited your Dad’s love of cars; you, however, couldn’t care less.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew’s old Land Rover.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which one?</p><p> </p><p>“A black one.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I mean…is it a Range Rover or the Defender?” He knew you wouldn’t know; he was just needling you.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it’s black, has 4 wheels, heated seats and a killer sound system.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. “I can’t picture it, Pip. You driving a big SUV? The queen of the subway? No way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I live in the countryside now. I am commuting with goats!”</p><p> </p><p>“Goats?”</p><p> </p><p>“Goats. I’ll tell you at lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>The restaurant was up ahead on the right. It was located on the water and there was seating on the outdoor deck. Sam snagged a parking spot out front. The breeze had picked up and it carried the scent of the sea and fried food. As you headed in, you saw families eating together. It reminded you of summer vacations on the Cape. Those halcyon days spent at the beach with your family, when the only drama was sunburnt skin and sibling squabbles.</p><p> </p><p>“This is perfect Sam, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>He gave you his megawatt smile. Sam looked like a J. Crew model, but thankfully, he was truly oblivious to it. He got you a table on the deck. You ordered lobster rolls with fries and a couple of beers; the perfect seaside meal. You explained your Irish goat situation to him while you waited for the food.</p><p> </p><p>“So, you mean to tell me that you have gone from the characters in the subway, to families of goats?”</p><p> </p><p>You nodded your head. “Yes, there are goats and sheep…oh, and badgers, but don’t mention them to Andrew.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why? Is he in a Holy War with the badgers?” Sam was thoroughly entertained by this story.</p><p> </p><p>“Kind of…don’t ask.”</p><p> </p><p>The waiter came with your food, it looked better than you could have hoped.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you get lobster rolls in Ireland?” Sam was starting to eat his fries.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but not like this, the seafood is incredibly good, but they serve it a little differently…they add herbs and other seasoning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sacrilege!!” He took a swig of beer and watched you for a while. “Pip, are you going to be ok?”</p><p> </p><p>You put down your roll. “What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam wiped his mouth and hands with his napkin. He leaned back and leveled his gaze at you, just like your dad used to do. “I’m worried about you being in Ireland alone. Andy’s going to be gone on tour, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, you’re going to be all alone in that big house out in the countryside?”</p><p> </p><p>You bristled a little. “Sam, it’s perfectly safe and if it makes you feel any better, we have a state-of-the-art security system.”</p><p> </p><p>He lowered his voice. “That’s not what I meant.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam had a right to be concerned. He had been there to help you pick up the pieces of your life before and it wasn’t pretty.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, before you get mad at me, I’m worried about how I am going to handle all of this. I mean really, Pip, how many people do we have to lose?”</p><p> </p><p>You reached across the table and took hold of his forearm. “I’m sorry Sam. I’m being a little insensitive.” You leaned back in your chair and looked out at the ocean. Tomorrow you would be on the other side of it. “Why don’t you come to Ireland?”</p><p> </p><p>He grimaced. “I’ve used all the vacation time I have…otherwise I would. Could you stay here longer?”</p><p> </p><p>It was your turn to frown. “I’m sorry Sam, but I need to get back. I have a thesis to write and an internship. And I miss Murphy.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about Andy? Did you two talk at all?”</p><p> </p><p>You finished your beer. “No. There wasn’t any time for that…Sam, do you think I am making a mistake?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam rubbed his chin. He looked your over. “No. I don’t. You’ve been really happy together; he clearly adores you. I think you just need to get it all out there. It seems like a logistical issue rather than…one of emotion.”</p><p> </p><p>You laughed. “Oh Sam, you’re quite the poet!”</p><p> </p><p>“What can I tell you? I’m a science guy. Not everyone can be like your giant, Irish bard.” He was smiling again and it felt like a small victory to you. “Ok, Pip.” He looked at his watch. “We need to get you to the airport.”</p><p> </p><p>Saying goodbye to Sam this time was brutal. It made the loss you were experiencing, all the more real. Sam came with you as far as the security line. He pulled you into a bear hug and held you for the longest time. When he finally let go, there were tears in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just us now, Pip.”</p><p> </p><p>You couldn’t speak and you couldn’t breathe. It took every bit of your energy not to fall apart on the spot. Sam understood. He kissed your forehead. “Call me when you land. I don’t care about the time.”</p><p> </p><p>You shook your head and hugged him one last time. Then you went through security, to the gate and on your way home.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Long Distance-Part 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Valentines Day!!</p><p>As always...I do not know Hozier...I am making it all up.</p><p>Please be safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The flight to Dublin was uneventful. Andrew got you a first-class ticket, which seemed a little indulgent at first, but you were grateful for the luxury and the extra space. After reading for a while, you ate dinner and watched a movie. Then you reclined the seat into a little bed and slept. Mercifully, it was a dreamless sleep, but it was still interrupted by the occasional chatter from the attendants and announcements from the pilot.</p><p> </p><p>After landing, you got in line for passport control; you kept waiting for a text from the car service, but heard nothing. A taxi from the airport to home would be ridiculously expensive, but it might be your only choice at this point. When you finished with security and got your bags, you made your way to pick up area. There were people waiting for loved ones and drivers holding signs with passengers’ names, but none with your name on it. Then you spotted him; he was lurking in the back and scanning the crowd. His hair was tucked up in a beanie and he was wearing his glasses. It amused you that he thought this actually disguised his identity, your very own Clark Kent. You were so surprised to see him and completely relieved too. When he saw you, he gave you a tentative smile. He maneuvered through the crowd and made his over to  you; then he wrapped you up in a big hug.</p><p>  </p><p>“I thought you were in the Netherlands.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was smelling your hair. “Ehm, we moved some things around…It’s so good to have you home.” He released you and looked you up and down. “I’m in the closest car park. Let’s go home.” He took your suitcases from you and led the way.</p><p> </p><p>The drive home was relatively quiet. It was nice just to be together and you were all talked out anyway. Andrew held your hand over the console and stole quick kisses at stoplights. When you finally arrived at the house, you felt the deep satisfaction of being home. Andrew parked the car and ran ahead to open the house door. Murphy came tearing through the doorway; he was whimpering and barking. You knelt down to pet him and he promptly knocked you over onto the ground and smothered you with sloppy dog kisses. “Oh Murphy, I missed you so much. Yes, I did!!” You scratched behind his hears and hugged his big neck. “Yes, I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was watching the two of you from the doorway. Although, he was smiling, it did not quite reach his eyes.  “Andrew, are you ok?” Murphy nuzzled you with his snout.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry?” He tipped his head.</p><p> </p><p>You got up from the ground, brushed the dirt off and headed towards him. “Are you ok? You look…” You weren’t sure what to say.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine.” He placed his hand on the back of your neck and kissed your forehead. “Let’s get you inside.”</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>Andrew drew a bath for you. It had been weeks since you had a good soak. Your love affair with baths started in childhood. You grew up in an old colonial home in a New England college town. The house had wavy glass windows, a hiding space behind the dining room paneling and a large clawfoot tub in the bathroom. The whole ritual of it was an utter decadence. You loved the bubbles and the lotions. It was a treat to you then and it still is now.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, is the water hot enough.” Andrew was standing next to the tub holding two steaming mugs of tea. You could barely put two thoughts together, let alone an answer. “I will take your smile as my answer. Here…” He handed you a cup.</p><p> </p><p>You sat up and took hold of the mug. “Thank you and the water is perfect.” Andrew sat on a stool that you usually kept towels on. Murphy was laying on the floor by the door. He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight, that you knew.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, baby…I want to thank you so much for coming to wake and funeral. I couldn’t have done it without you.”</p><p> </p><p>He was fidgeting with the tag of the tea bag. “I wish I could have done more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just being there, that’s all I needed.”</p><p> </p><p>He seemed unconvinced. “I am going to let you relax in peace.” He got up, kissed you and went into the bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p>That night you made love in your bed, on the sheets you bought together in Italy. It seemed like he was trying to memorize the details of your body. He tracked your spine with his nimble fingers, traced your shoulders and circled your wrists. He wrapped his large hands around your ribcage and stroked your breasts with his thumbs. Then he cupped your face and searched your eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, what is it?”</p><p> </p><p>He studied your mouth. “Ehm, I don’t want to forget.” He was breathless.</p><p>He laid you down on the bed and kissed his way down the length of your body, the hairs on face tickled you where they touched. When he got to the apex of your thighs you were on edge and completely at his mercy. He nudged your thighs with his nose; his breath was hot on your skin. The he slowly took you apart with his mouth and velvety tongue. The pressure of his hands on your hips was the only thing keeping you grounded. And when he finally sank into your body, you wrapped yourself around him and didn’t think, didn’t worry; you just moved in time with him. You could never feel this way about another man. It was utterly impossible.</p><p> </p><p>He was lost in the moment now and you loved him like this, his hair wild, skin sweaty. You coaxed him along with your touch. He was so, so close and when you locked your thighs around him and whispered in his ear; he came. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest and feel the heaving of his breath as you held him in your arms.</p><p> </p><p>After a while, you stretched out next to each other, hot and spent. He was still coming down from his high, but he reached out for you. “I missed you.” His voice rough from exertion.</p><p> </p><p>It was late and soon Andrew was snoring softly. You were still on east coast time and hungry to boot. So, you slipped out of bed and stole his shirt to wear. After peeing, you made your way downstairs to the kitchen followed closely by Murphy. To your absolute surprise and delight the fridge was fully stocked. Andrew had mentioned on the ride home that he had ordered groceries, but you were impressed with his thoroughness. You made a small turkey sandwich and sat at the island to enjoy it with an icy cold beer. Murphy was sitting pretty, licking his chops and waiting for a treat from you. You pulled a little turkey out of your sandwich and gave it to him. The house was so quiet and calm. All you could hear was the sound of the wind outside and the heat turning on in the kitchen. It was a welcome respite from the noisy hotel you had been staying in. Murphy nudged you his paw and you gave him a little more food.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, that didn’t take long.” Andrew came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you.</p><p> </p><p>“For what?”</p><p> </p><p>“For Murphy to get food out of you.” He laughed into your hair and kissed your cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m weak, what can I tell you…are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, thanks. I’m not hungry, but…” He walked over to the fridge and opened the freezer drawer. “I got us the chocolate gelato.” He raised the pint container triumphantly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>The</em> chocolate gelato?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” He did something ridiculous with his eyebrows and you giggled at his silliness. “Do you want some?”</p><p> </p><p>You shook your head vigorously. He pulled out some bowls and spoons out of the drawer. He scooped a generous amount out and slid a bowl across the island to you. “This makes me think of Rome. Great craic.” He leaned against the island and dug into his bowl.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm, it does. I think my favorite spot was that little gelateria by the Pantheon.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head in agreement and licked his spoon. “I wonder how the lads at the Colosseum are doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“The modern gladiators? Probably smoking and chatting on their phones, just like we left them.” You thought about your trip there with him. The warm sunshine-filled days and romantic nights. “I hope we can get back there soon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, well, not for a while, sadly.” He looked at you. “I have the tour.” He stopped eating and put the bowl down on the counter.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, is something wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a breath. “What happens when I’m not here?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve lost me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Earlier, you said, all you need is for me to be with you. So, what happens when I’m not?” He was getting upset and chewing on his lip. </p><p> </p><p>All of this was giving you emotional whiplash and a cold, anxious feeling started to come over you. “I don’t know what to say.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…I have to go back out on the press tour.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? When?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at the clock on the stove; it was after midnight. “Well…technically tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“So soon?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok? Honey, are you really ok with that?”</p><p> </p><p>You weren’t sure what to say. One minute the two of you are making love and eating gelato and the next minute he’s leaving. “I feel like you want a particular answer from me, but I have no idea what the real question is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…it’s just that you were so unhappy before you left for the states.”</p><p> </p><p>You interrupted him. “I wasn’t unhappy, I was frustrated by your behavior.” You paused to collect your thoughts. “Andrew, we’ve been happy, haven’t we? I mean, before the new tour came up…things were good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, what changed? One minute we’re making plans and adopting a dog. The next you’re ignoring me for weeks on end. And I don’t mean the time you were in the studio writing. I mean you purposely shutting me out…It was like a light going off. One minute everything is great and the next…” You snapped your fingers for emphasis. “And when you did talk to me you were so short with me. That’s not like you Andrew.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t why I do this. I truly don’t.” He moved abruptly around the island to get closer to you, but you flinched out of instinct. He was shocked by your response. “Honey, are you afraid of me?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I’m sorry.” You got up and moved away from him because you felt a little claustrophobic and confused. Murphy followed you and sat on your feet. “Andrew…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.” You felt awful; you knew he would never hurt you, but sometimes your body remembers things your brain chooses to forget. You took a deep breath. “Andrew, you know everything about me. Everything. All of my dreams and hopes. You have seen every scar, known every hurt. I have been so open and vulnerable with you…and when you go and change on a dime…I can’t handle that. I’ve been through too much.” Your stomach felt like lead.</p><p> </p><p>He was absolutely stunned. “Christ, I never meant to hurt you. Never.” He was crushed. It was written all over his face. The two of you just stood there in the darkened quiet of your kitchen. You were shaking a little and he was close to tears.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I am going to take a walk.” It was barely a whisper; he left through the mudroom. You pulled yourself together and cleaned up the dishes. Then you went back up to the bedroom; Murphy was on your heels. A wave of nausea came over you. So, you went into the bathroom, lifted the lid on the toilet and quickly emptied the contents of your stomach. Then you sat down on the floor and sobbed. The tile was cold underneath you and it felt soothing in an odd way. Murphy came and laid down with you, head in your lap. When you were able to calm down, you got up and brushed your teeth. You splashed your face with cool water and went into the bedroom. That’s when Andrew returned. You heard him close the door and set the alarm. Eventually, he made his way upstairs. You were sitting on the bed with Murphy.</p><p> </p><p>“May I…ehm, is it ok to come talk to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>He sat down in the reading chair opposite the bed, arms wrapped around himself like a shield. He looked at straight at you and you could see how scared he was. “My whole life I have felt like…ehm…like I’m on an island. And everyone I love is on the other side of the water. It’s like I have to jump into the freezing cold water and swim across just to… connect.” He relaxed his arms, but started rubbing his palm instead. “I’m not explaining it very well, am I?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you’re fine. Go on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…It’s not that I don’t want to…it’s that I find it very difficult to keep everything going. No matter how well I am doing in one area, undoubtedly I am failing in the other.” He was fussing with his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“You did tell me that you are bad at balance.”</p><p> </p><p>He titled his head. “I don’t want to fail this time, but I have no idea how to do it…keep it all together and I don’t always know the best way to articulate what I’m feeling. And I am afraid…ehm.” His face was contorted with worry.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, what are you afraid of?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hurting you again...letting you down. What if I can’t do it? Keep the balance?” His voice was soft and mournful.</p><p> </p><p>Your brain started working in overdrive. The panic crashed over you; your skin was covered with a cold sweat and you didn’t know what to say to him. “Oh Andrew, I don’t have the answers, but I do know I love you. That’s all. I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, what’s wrong?” He came over to you.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you just hold me please?”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a breath; his shoulders dropped. “Of course.” He knelt in front of you and enveloped you in his arms. “Oh, my love, you’re shaking. Come on, let’s get you into bed.” The two of you crawled into the bed. Andrew pulled you into his lap and wrapped the blanket around you. He tucked your head under his chin and held on to you.</p><p> </p><p>To be continued…</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Long Distance-Part 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to my friend, Sarah, for reading my work and encouraging my delusions.</p><p>I do not know Hozier.</p><p>Please stay safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When you woke up the next morning, it felt like you had the worst hangover of your life. Your mouth was dry and bitter, your head was pounding and your muscles ached. Andrew held you last night until you finally crashed from the adrenaline drop, but you were alone in your bed now. It took a Herculean effort to get out of the bed and into the bathroom, but you did it. After cleaning up and putting on your sweats, you headed downstairs to look for Andrew. When you got to the top of the stairs, you heard his voice. After waiting a minute or two, you realized he was on the phone, probably with management. It sounded like was canceling his press for the next few days. You sat on the top step and listened, like a child eavesdropping on your parents as they discussed your punishment. The last you thing wanted, ever, was to be a distraction or a burden, not to Andrew and not to anyone else you loved. How were you going to handle this with him? You were lost in thought when he appeared at the bottom of the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>You could feel your face go red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.”</p><p> </p><p>He tilted his head. “You didn’t and I have no secrets from you anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Murphy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, he’s with Jon…making his film debut.”</p><p> </p><p>You were confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, how are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>He frowned at you. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. I feel like hell.”</p><p> </p><p>He extended his hand to you. “Come on, I’ll make you some tea and tell you about Murphy.”</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>You soon found yourself on the couch, under a blanket with a mug of tea, a plate of toast and a couple of ibuprofen. Andrew was building a little fire in the fireplace and humming something you didn’t recognize.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that new?”</p><p>  </p><p>He stopped what he was doing to look at you. “Pardon?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re humming, is it new?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that.” He turned back to the task at hand. “It’s just a little tune that keeps popping up. I can’t figure out what to do with it.” He stood, brushed his hands off and came over to the couch. You moved to make room for him on the end.</p><p> </p><p>“So, getting back to Murphy…you mean to tell me that our dog, that doesn’t follow directions of any kind, is going to be the star of a commercial?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but to be fair, the dog they hired was sick, so Murphy is an understudy of sorts.” Andrew started laughing.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, poor Jon. This isn’t going to end well, I’m afraid.” You sipped your tea. Andrew got up and put another briquette on the fire.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, did you cancel your press appearances?” He turned around, but you couldn’t make eye contact with him because you were so embarrassed.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…we canceled a couple things and rescheduled the rest. The team is handling everything. It will be grand.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s been a terrible time. And you seem to be running on fumes these days.” He picked up the plate of toast and handed it to you. “Please, will you have a piece? It has bitter orange marmalade on it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” You took the toast and started to eat it. It could have been cardboard for all you knew. Your senses were trashed these days. Andrew watched you carefully, so you ate the whole slice.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to get a cup of tea for myself. Do you want anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, thank you.” He eyed the second piece of toast, so you started to eat it. He kissed the top of your head and went into the kitchen. You listened as he put the electric kettle on and took things out of the cabinets. Unfortunately, it couldn’t distract you from worrying. How long was he going to be home? How many events did they have to cancel or reschedule? How much of a bother were you becoming?</p><p> </p><p>Andrew returned with his tea and sat on the end of the couch. He took a quick sip before placing the mug on the end table. Then he gestured for you to put your feet in his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” He started rubbing your right foot. “Andrew?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for staying.”</p><p> </p><p>He focused on your foot; brow furrowed. “I shouldn’t have left you alone in the states.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t alone.”</p><p> </p><p>He grimaced. “You know what I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>You poked him gently with your other foot to get his attention. He finally looked at you. “You were there when I needed you. Honestly, Sam and I needed that time together…To say goodbye.” You pulled your foot out of his hands and climbed into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you. “It turned out to be a good thing.” He kissed your head and played with your hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey…I want to ask you something, but I don’t want to upset you.” Andrew ran his hand up and down your back.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” Your heart was in your throat.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s about what happened last night. You were so…so out of sorts. I’m worried about you…worried about leaving you alone when it’s time to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” It was worse than you thought; you were a distraction. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Now I’ve upset you.”</p><p> </p><p>You smiled in spite of how you really felt. Sometimes, when things were like this, you had to fake it until you got through. “No, you’re right. I am running on fumes. I need some good sleep and a good routine. I’ve been all over the place and I can’t think of the last time I got any exercise.” All of it was true, but you were leaving out the difficult parts. The ones about nightmares and raging anxiety. “Hopefully, I can get back to it.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked you over, but seemed satisfied with your statement. He kissed you. “Ehm…so we have all this extra time together. What do you want to do?”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>“Wait a minute. What kind of word is r-a-g-a-i-r-e?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ragaire? Ehm…it’s Irish for a person who likes being up late at night.”</p><p> </p><p>“A night owl?”</p><p> </p><p>“Basically.” Andrew was cleaning his glasses on the hem of his shirt. You were seated in front of the fire and in a fight-to-the death Scrabble match.</p><p> </p><p>“So…we’re allowing Irish words on the board now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” He put his glasses back on and gave you his most charming smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no. Don’t think that you are going to pull the ole Irish charm on me, Mr. Byrne. It won’t work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now, I am truly offended.” His mock offense was laughable. “Come on, we’re in a dead heat. Let’s make it interesting.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is not in the Scrabble rule book, but I will go with it…under one condition.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…what’s that?”</p><p> </p><p>“That we can use Italian words as well.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked you straight in the eye. “You’re going to crush me, aren’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not necessarily.” You took a sip of your tea.</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head and laughed. “I don’t believe you.”</p><p> </p><p>About twenty minutes later, there were no more letter tiles in the bag. It was your turn.</p><p> </p><p>“Quandanche?” Andrew shot you a look.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, it means…even if or…even though. And that is 23 points on a triple letter score…so, that makes it…”</p><p> </p><p>“Sixty-nine. You’re killing me!!”</p><p> </p><p>You wrote the score down on the sheet. “And I am out of letters, so that is game.” You leaned over the board and gently took hold of his chin and squeezed. “You’ll win the next game.” He kissed you quickly and the two of you started to clean up the game.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, are you hungry? Do you want some lunch?” Andrew put the game pieces and board in the box.</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, I’m tired. I thought I would take a nap first.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jetlag?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I think I will sleep here on the couch and enjoy the fire.”</p><p> </p><p>You laid down on the couch and Andrew tucked you in under the blanket. Sleep took hold of you quickly and you gave in to it willingly. Between the jet lag, time changes and grief, you were tired to your bones.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p>It was close to dinnertime when Jon returned with Murphy. You were sitting at the island in the kitchen scrolling through your email when you saw the lights of the truck in the driveway. A minute later, they came exploding through the side door. Jon dropped his coat and shoes in the mudroom, but Murphy tore into the kitchen looking for his people.</p><p> </p><p>“Murphy!” You were so happy to have him back. You sat on the floor and to pet him, he flopped into your lap and soaked up the adulation.</p><p> </p><p>Jon came into the kitchen and smiled at you. “You’re back!”</p><p> </p><p>“I would get up to give you a hug but…” You pointed to large dog in your lap.</p><p> </p><p>“No worries. It’s good to have you back. Where’s yer man?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Here. How did it go with the lad?”</p><p> </p><p>Jon leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. His eyes were sparkling. “He was grand. Murphy is the star of this commercial.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up. You have to be kidding.” Andrew was in utter disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>“No, truly. He saved the shoot. Thank you for letting me borrow him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jon, are you sure we’re talking about the same dog? Murphy? Our dog. That dog.” Andrew pointed at him with one of his long fingers. “The one that can’t follow directions to save his canine life?”</p><p> </p><p>Jon stood up straight and commanded the dog. “Murphy, come.” Murphy jumped out of your lap and ran over to Jon. “Murphy, sit.” He sat. “Murphy, down.” He got down on the floor, never taking his eyes off Jon. “Murphy, roll over.” The dog rolled over and waited.</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Jon looked at both of you. “Sorry, I thought you knew. I did a little training with him while you were gone.”</p><p> </p><p>You started laughing hysterically. It was so funny and such a pleasant surprise after all of the sadness, worry and death.</p><p> </p><p>Then Andrew spoke. “Grand. Just what we need…another member of the family in show business!!”</p><p> </p><p>Jon stayed for dinner. The men made the salad and helped you with the bucatini all’Amatriciana. Everything came together quickly and soon you were sitting at the long dining table, enjoying a meal together. Andrew put Donny Hathaway on the speaker and his earnest, sultry voice filled the room. Jon entertained you with stories about Murphy and his star-making turn on set. Murphy, exhausted from fame, was asleep underneath the table, head on your feet. Then the conversation turned to their childhood and all of their adventures together. It was always fun to listen to Jon and Andrew tell stories about growing up and school. There was always a lot of laughter and the affection between them was so sweet. Everything was great until Jon asked about the tour.</p><p> </p><p>“So, I thought you were supposed to be on the road already? Change of plans?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm…the press part we moved, but the launch dates are the same. Rehearsals start next week with the new touring band.”</p><p> </p><p>Jon turned to you. “So, when are you heading out with this eejit? Do you need me to take Murphy at all?”</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t really had the time to look at the schedule and I need to call my advisor tomorrow and figure out what is happening with my placements.”</p><p> </p><p>You looked over at Andrew. He was focused on his wine glass, swirling it vigorously. The plum-colored liquid spun around the glass until centrifugal force could no longer hold on to it and it spilled out all over him and the floor. “Fuck! Sorry.” He immediately started to clean it up with his napkin.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, are you ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Thanks Jon, I’m grand.” He was covered. “Ehm, I’m going to go change. Be right back.” He disappeared upstairs.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, I really stepped in it, didn’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not your fault, Jon.”</p><p> </p><p>Jon refilled Andrew’s glass and offered you more wine. “No, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>He set the bottle down and leaned back in his chair. “Are you two ok? Because I thought...” He paused.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re fine. It’s been an awful few weeks and with the tour and the launch…it’s just a stressful time.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew returned wearing a fresh shirt and pants. “Sorry for the drama.” He kissed you quickly before sitting down.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine. Actually, if you two don’t mind, I was hoping to soak in the tub before going to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>Jon smiled at you. “You go, I’ll help this slacker with the dishes.” He got up and gave you one of his brilliant hugs.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks again for all your help.”</p><p> </p><p>He released you from his grip. “Ah, no worries. I’m so sorry about your dad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Later that night, you and Andrew laid together in the dark. He curled himself around you like a big spoon. In everyday life, it is easy to forget how large he really is. His personality and physicality are so soft and gentle, but the reality is, he towers over you. His hands are enormous and his shoulders wide, but in the curve of his body, you feel happier and safer than anywhere in the world.</p><p> </p><p>He whispered in your hair. “What are thinking about?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was thinking of ways to monetize our dog’s secret talents.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew started to giggle. “That’s the craic. We get him to work and we just relax.”</p><p> </p><p>“We could take long vacations in Italy and eat gelato all day. No side jobs necessary.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that would be grand. We need an agent and a manager for him.” He took hold of your hand and played with your fingers. “I can ask Caroline. She would know the right person…I like this new plan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too.”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy was sound asleep in his crate. The activities of the day wore him out. You could hear him breathing.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, can I tell you something?” Andrew’s voice was low and his body stiffened just a little bit. Your rolled onto your back to look at him.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>He propped his head up on his arm. “I wish…” He let out a breath. “I wish you could just come with me on tour. Just for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>You were stunned and didn’t know what to say.</p><p> </p><p>He placed his hand on your chest, over your heart. “I know it’s selfish of me. I know…ehm…I just want to keep you with me for a while.” He moved his hand to your cheek. “Will you think about it?”</p><p> </p><p>You had so many questions for him, but your mind was muddled and tired. It would be impossible to make a decision tonight. So, you agreed to consider it. “Ok.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled you close to his body and held you tight. Then he whispered in your ear, “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Long Distance Part-10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you're still here, thank you for staying on this journey with me!</p><p>Be Safe</p><p>Comments always welcomed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a week since Andrew asked you to come on the tour. You were surprised by the invitation and truth be told, you didn’t think it made much sense for either of you. However, you promised to consider it. Andrew was busy prepping for rehearsals with the band and all of the other things that needed to be done before a tour.</p><p> </p><p>You took Murphy to the beach for a long walk. He needed the exercise and you needed time to clear your head. When you finished, you loaded him into the SUV and started to head home. You phone started ringing; it was Rachel.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi! I’m glad I caught you.” Rachel was full of energy; you could tell by the bounce in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi. It’s early for you, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“It is. I’m in the car on the way to the yoga studio.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gotcha!”</p><p> </p><p>“So, is it crazy over there?”</p><p> </p><p>“It is and I can’t believe you’re missing it!”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know! The scheduling was just too crazy for me. I needed a little break to be home.” Rachel just finished a tour of the states with her own band. She was going to miss the European and Australian legs of the tour, but would take over in the US later in the year. “Have they started? How does it sound?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. First rehearsal is tomorrow. Don’t worry I will send some videos. How are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Exhausted, but I’m home and I am going to chill out and recharge.”</p><p> </p><p>“How’s yer man?”</p><p> </p><p>She laughed. “You’re starting to sound Irish.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I definitely am. Occupational hazard. Singers…we are such little mimics.”</p><p> </p><p>“No kidding, by the end of the last tour, I had a cross between an Irish and an English accent. It was absurd. My man is great by the way. He sends his love.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, I miss him. I miss you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too…Listen…I need to talk to you.” She paused to breathe and you knew where this was headed.  “I am so sorry that I couldn’t be with you and your Dad at the end.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rachel. Please…don’t apologize. It’s not necessary. You’re always there for me. Always.” She was quiet, but you could tell she was crying. “Rach. Don’t start or I am going to lose it and I’m driving too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright. Tell me something funny.”</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew wants me to go on tour with him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I said funny not ridiculous. Seriously though, I’m confused.”</p><p> </p><p>“That makes two of us.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about your work? Are you going to go with him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not. I’ve thought about it, but you know how it is…life on a tour bus? As a couple?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I do know people who do it, but they have kids and their tours look <em>very</em> different than ours.”</p><p> </p><p>You laughed. “I can imagine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you told him yet?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m on my way home now. I hope your guest room is clean, I may need it!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s always ready for you. Good luck. Text me later?”</p><p> </p><p>“Promise.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye!” She said it with an exaggerated southern twang.</p><p> </p><p>“Ciao.”</p><p>---</p><p>You found Andrew in the laundry room. He was pulling things out of the dryer and carefully folding them.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” He gave you a quick kiss. “How was the beach?”</p><p> </p><p>“Windy, but nice. The sun is really bright today.” Murphy flopped down underneath the work table with a resounding grunt.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew laughed. “Someone’s tired.”</p><p> </p><p>“He should be. Here, let me help.” You took some of the clothes and started folding. “If you have anything that needs mending, let me know. I can do it for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah? Thanks, I have some buttons that need replacing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled the last of the clothes out of the dryer and put them on top, between the two of you. “Ehm…have you thought about my offer to come on tour?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have. I’ve thought about it a lot.” You stopped what you were doing and looked at him. “And I really appreciate your asking, but I think it’s better if I stay home in Ireland.”</p><p> </p><p>His posture deflated with every word you spoke. He let out a long breath and started piling the clean clothes up.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, you’re going to be so busy, we wouldn’t have any time together. It’s better if I come for some visits, like the last tour.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. “It’s not the same. You said it yourself. It was easier when we were in the states at the same time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I did say that. I said it <em>months </em>ago when I first asked you about the schedule and the tour. But you stuck your head in the sand and ignored me.” You were becoming frustrated with him. “I can’t just follow you around on a tour bus. I wouldn’t be happy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I fucked up. I know. I know. But I can’t leave you here alone.” He was definitely mad; he wouldn’t look at you and his voice was so low.</p><p> </p><p>“Why? That has always been the plan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t you just take a sabbatical?”</p><p> </p><p>You were shocked. “How can you ask me to do that? I’ve given up everything to move here…left the people I love behind! I’m starting over with my career and you want me to drop everything to be the tour girlfriend?”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew took a step back from you. “You’re making it sound so…tawdry. I just want you to be with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand, where this is coming from? ”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid!” His voice was so loud, it startled you. Murphy scrambled out from under the table and stood between the two of you. “Ok? I’m afraid…you’re not yourself; you’re <em>so</em> unhappy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, I’m unhappy!! I just buried my father. What on earth do you expect?” Your anger and frustration were boiling over. “You know what, try to imagine losing both your parents <em>and </em>your brother and then…then you can tell me how I should be feeling!” You grabbed a stack of towels and headed upstairs. Murphy followed you.</p><p> </p><p>For next couple of hours, you hid in your office. Andrew walked by a few times, you heard the creaking of the floorboards in the hall, but he didn’t disturb you. Murphy was asleep under your desk and you tried to get some studying done, but it was impossible. The sun was low in the sky and your stomach started rumbling. You would have to leave your self-imposed exile at some point, but you wanted to avoid Andrew for as long as possible.</p><p> </p><p>There was a knock at the door. Murphy popped his head up and growled.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ok.” You patted him on the head. “Come in.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew opened the door. He was rubbing his palms and looked incredibly contrite. “Can we talk?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry. That was…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, what is going on with you? You’re worried about me? I’m worried about you.”</p><p> </p><p>His whole body sagged. “I dunno.” He went and sat down on the couch; Murphy made his way over to him and put his head in his lap. Andrew stroked the dog’s head.</p><p> </p><p>Your head was started to hurt and you rubbed at your temples. “You know, the last time someone asked me to drop everything just to be with them, it didn’t end well for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew sucked in a breath. “Christ.”</p><p> </p><p>“I told you the other night, I can’t handle this emotional rollercoaster with you. You have been all over the place ever since…ever since you started planning the tour. And I can’t tell if you’re going to miss me or if you’re trying to push me away.” This was exhausting physically and emotionally, but you knew that everything needed to come out now or this relationship wouldn’t survive. “Baby, I<em> am</em> struggling right now, but I know why…and I know where to get help. I’ll be ok, eventually. But I’m scared that if you don’t figure out what it is you’re feeling, we’re not going to make it.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew focused on Murphy; he rubbed his head and scratched his ears, but you could see the emotions as they flashed across his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “What if when I’m on tour, you realize this was a mistake? That you hate it here and that this isn’t the life for you? What if you want to go back to the states?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked so small and sad; your heart broke into a million pieces. You went to him and took his face in your hands. “Baby, if anything were to change, I would talk to you first. And if this arrangement didn’t work, would you be willing to reconsider things?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p> </p><p>You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs. He moved Murphy to the side, put his hands on your hips and brought you closer to him. You smiled at him. “Well, I love Ireland, so there really isn’t a problem.”</p><p> </p><p>He dropped his head and took a breath. “Ehm…what if it’s me, what if I am the issue?”</p><p> </p><p>He was catastrophizing this whole situation. “Oh Andrew. Look me, please.” He lifted his head and locked eyes with you. “I’m all in, I love you and I want to be with you. It’s going to be hard with you gone, but I am pretty independent and capable. Besides, we have a good travel budget. I’ll come out to see you as much as I can.” You ran your hands through his hair and scratched his scalp. He leaned into your touch and groaned at the pleasure of it. Then he pulled you into his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“I know I’m freaking out, but…” He stopped and let out a breath. “Ehm…this is usually the point in the relationship where things fall apart. I told you the other night, I want this to work.” His eyes were wet and glassy. “I just wish I could postpone this whole tour and just be here with you.”</p><p> </p><p>You kissed him. “Thank you for that, but we both know that isn’t possible.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I guess not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Listen, this is a different relationship, you’re older and hopefully wiser and we want it to work. The rest is a leap of faith.”</p><p> </p><p>He searched your face. “How…ehm…how can you be so optimistic? After everything you’ve been through?”</p><p> </p><p>You smiled at him. “Lots of therapy and I have so many wonderful things to look forward to.”</p><p> </p><p>He tucked your hair back behind your ear. “And someone who loves you.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the best part.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Long Distance Part-11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for continuing this journey with me. As always, I do not know Hozier.</p>
<p>Stay safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The album was released and the tour was now in full swing. The new work was well received and the tour was running smoothly so far. Andrew was off on his magic carpet ride and you were home in Ireland working and keeping the home-fires burning. Your clinical placements were challenging, but fulfilling too. And the team you were now working with were excited to have you aboard. Your social circle had grown and you were living a full life in Dublin. Unfortunately, you missed Andrew terribly, but you were making trips to see him whenever possible and technology kept you in each other’s virtual company. Today, you were having a scheduled Facetime with him from Australia. Everything about your lives was carefully scheduled and planned now. It was familiar territory from when you first met and started dating. The difference now was that you lived in Ireland and not New York.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Your phone came to life and he appeared on your screen. He was in bed. His hair was down and wet and he had his old glasses on. “Hey!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi. How was the gig?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was grand! The opera house is amazing. I wish you were here to see it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Next time.” You were huddled up in your office, having a late lunch so you could talk to him. Andrew started coughing. “Oh, no. Are you sick?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He blew his nose and nodded his head. “Ehm, yeah. It started with the crew, now it’s been going through the band.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told you to stop making out with everyone!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He laughed at that. “Ah, can’t be helped!” He sipped from his travel mug.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Throat coat?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nodded. “Ehm, yeah. We’re all drinking it now.” He coughed again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you using the humidifier? It will help.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have been, but it broke last night. We’re going to replace it. Ehm…I did take a long, hot shower and it helped.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ok. Sorry to nag, you just sound so awful.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Honey, you’re not nagging. I appreciate the care, truly.” He started pulling his hair into a bun. “Hey, so are you still coming to London?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The original schedule had a week-long break after the Australia dates. Andrew was supposed to come home to rest and get ready for the next leg of the tour, but the tour sold out so quickly that new dates were added to the schedule. Now you were going to meet up with him in London for a couple of days.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, do you still want me to come?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tilted his head. “Absolutely. I’ve missed you so much. This is so much harder this time round.” He suddenly looked weary to his bones. “Are you home? I can’t tell.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I’m taking lunch in my temporary office. It’s only 2:00 in the afternoon here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked at his watch. Before he left on this tour, he set it to Dublin time so he would always know the time at home. “Of course. How’s the lad? Is he taking good care of you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He is. We still walk the beach most mornings.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew leaned into the screen. He looked sleepy and a little dazed. “I miss those beach walks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll have them again. Oh, and Babe?…I finally caved.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Caved?”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve been letting him sleep on the bed with me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew smiled. “Ah, I’m glad. It’s good you have each other. I miss him.” He looked like he was going to fall over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sweetheart, I think you should get some rest.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nodded. “I am tired.” He gave you a sleepy smile. “I love you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Love you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After ending the call, you immediately texted his manager, Caroline. You wanted to do something special for him and you were going to need some help. The team didn’t let you down. They worked quickly to put everything in place for your visit. Hopefully, this would lift his spirits.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>The flight to London went smoothly. You were excited to see Andrew and to be back in a city you both loved. Andrew texted you while you were in the cab. He was going to take a nap, but wanted you to wake him when you arrived at the hotel. However, you didn’t want to wake him, so when you got to the room, you slipped the key card into the lock and opened the door as quietly as possible. The bell hop rolled the bags into the room and crept back out. He gave a thumbs up and left. Murphy must have picked up Andrew’s scent because his tail was going a mile a minute. He started pulling on his leash, so you let him go and followed him into the suite. Andrew was flopped face down on the bed. Part of him was hanging off the edge of the king-sized bed and your heart twisted when you realized why; he was sleeping on just his side of the bed. Even though you weren’t there, he had kept a place for you. Murphy made his way over and started licking Andrew’s foot and then his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew mumbled into the pillow. “Murphy…go lay down.” The dog kept licking. “Murphy, I said go lay down….Murphy?” Andrew sat up, his hair was sticking up all over and he appeared perplexed. He looked at the dog who was whimpering and wagging his whole body. “Murphy! Ah, that’s a good lad!” He slid out of the bed and onto the floor. Murphy couldn’t contain his joy; he flopped into Andrew’s lap, tail slapping the ground, then he flipped onto his back to get a belly-rub.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t believe it!” Andrew looked at you in disbelief. “What a delightful surprise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You sounded like you could use a visit. And this one has missed you terribly.” You went and sat on floor next to Andrew. He leaned in and gave you a kiss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you so much. How on earth did you do it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I asked the Carolines and they made it happen. I just had to get on the plane. He was a hit with the crew by the way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Murphy was nuzzling Andrew to get his attention. “Ehm, did you fly commercial?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, private.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow, Murph, you’re living the high life!!” He stroked the dogs head. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see both of you. Thank you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We missed you too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But Honey, what are we going to do with him during concert?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, we already worked that out. Give me one second.” You got up, went to your suitcase and unzipped the front compartment. After you found what you were looking for, you came back,<br/>handed the item to Andrew and sat back down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked at what you gave him and started laughing riotously. Caroline had made Hozier tour credentials for Murphy. “Ah Murph, you’re tour official!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now that’s better. That’s the smile everyone missed.” You cupped Andrew’s chin with your hand and he leaned into your touch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm… so it’s a conspiracy?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, but a good one. Anyway, your incredible team worked everything out. Murphy will be stage right with me tonight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew let out a long breath. “I can’t…” He cleared his throat. “Thank you so much. I needed this more than you could ever know.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. “How are you by the way?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m good! My clinicals are great. I really enjoy the people I’m working with, but there is a learning curve.” You got up and went to raid the mini fridge.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Learning curve?” Andrew got up and sat on the bed. Murphy laid on the floor next to the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, not when it comes to therapeutic techniques…water?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You grabbed a bottle of water for him and an Italian beer for yourself. “I mean when it comes to cultural norms. Here you go.” You handed him the water and sat across from him on the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks.” He took the beer from you, opened it and handed it back to you. “Does that factor in to how you work with someone?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, absolutely.” You sipped from your bottle. “Where I went to school, we took an organic and humanistic view of a patient. So, their cultural perspective and background are very important.”</p>
<p>Andrew sipped his water, he looked thinner than you liked him to be and worn-out. “Baby, I think you should go back to bed for a while. Get some rest while you can. We can chat later.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked so relieved when you said it. “Ehm, you’re sure?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sure and I insist.” You got off the bed so he could get back under the covers. “I am going to unpack and relax. Don’t worry about me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew was asleep before you finished speaking. You signaled to Murphy to get up on the bed which he gladly did. He turned around a couple of times and then curled up on Andrew’s feet. Your heart swelled at the sight of your two boys, finally together. While they slept, you unpacked some things; your toiletries, clothes and some home-baked goodies. Then you set up the small humidifier you brought for Andrew. His breathing was relaxed, but raspy. He seemed better than the other night when you talked, but he was definitely still sick. You went over and smoothed his forehead with your hand. His skin was cool to the touch which was a good sign.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You puttered around the suite for a while. Then you changed into one his shirts and your shorts, grabbed your tablet and got in bed with Andrew. He hadn’t moved an inch and neither had Murphy. You relaxed and read your new book accompanied by the soft snores of your boys. It was wonderful.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>You were thoroughly enjoying your new book, but the ache in your forearm and hand was growing by the minute. You got some lotion and started to massage it the way your physical therapist had shown you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here, let me.” Andrew sat up and took hold of your arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey there sleeping beauty. How are you feeling?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He blushed. “Better.” He moved opposite you and started to rub your forearm and wrist. “Can I have the lotion, please?” He poured it onto your skin and started to knead the tight muscles. “Ehm, how has this been, your hand?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s coming back. I’m able to play simple stuff at work, basic chords. But, I tire out so fast. It’s frustrating.” He found a knot and focused on it; you winced.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He eased up on the pressure. “Too much?” He watched your face while smoothed the muscles with his long fingers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A little…better.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Murphy made his way over and planted his head Andrew’s lap. “There’s my lad. I’ve missed you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s so happy now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, tell me about work.” He started massaging your hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I really like the team. They respect that I am coming from a different framework and, um, they are quite interested in my experience…particularly with brain trauma.” You let out a long breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow. “More?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think that’s good. Thank you.” You shook out your hand. “I’m doing pub trivia with them on Thursday nights, it’s been fun.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh really?” He was delighted by this news.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, pub quiz…right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.” He got off the bed. “I’m going to make more tea and hit the jacks, do you want anything?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Water, please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew put the electric kettle on and disappeared into the bathroom. You settled back into the pillows and Murphy snuggled up next to you. You heard the sound of flushing and water being turned on in the sink. “What else are you up to without me around?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Too many men to mention.” You spoke loudly so he could hear you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m ignoring that!” He reappeared and gave you a look. “Really, what else are you doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I’m still getting together with my study group and a couple of us are doing yoga together once a week.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The kettle started whistling and Andrew poured the water in to his mug. “I heard you have a weekly date with a handsome lad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, that’s what happens when you leave me alone. Oh, I brought a jar of local honey. It’s on the bureau.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He found the jar and raised it triumphantly. “Thanks. This stuff is magic.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It is.” You started playing with Murphy’s ears. “So, Jon told you about our dinner dates?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew came back to the bed and handed you a water. “Ehm, yes. He loves your company. I’m so glad. It’s grand that you two are so close…makes me feel a little less guilty.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You took hold of his hand. “There’s nothing to feel guilty about. I’m doing well and for the most part, I’m happy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tipped his head. “But.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You locked eyes with him. “ Well…I miss you. I miss Sam and I <em>really</em> miss my Dad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew put his mug on the nightstand; he stroked your hair and your face. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be.” He focused his green eyes on your mouth. “I miss you too and our home…our life together.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But this, the tour, this is part of our life together too. And you have worked too hard to not enjoy it. I want you to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it too much? Being home…alone?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Actually, it’s been fine. I’m very busy with work and my new friends. I do miss you a lot, but I really am enjoying everything for the most part. As far as my Dad goes…” You couldn’t say anything after that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew wrapped you up in his arms and kissed your head. “Ehm, I suppose nothing can fix that except…maybe time?” You missed this, being physically close, the way his skin smelled and how you fit perfectly into the crook of his neck. You slipped your hand under his shirt and ran it up his spine. The bony protrusions stuck out more than usual.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He breathed into your ear. “I know, I need to eat more.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You smiled. “I brought you hazelnut, chocolate chip cookies.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah?!” He kissed your mouth and then your neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And those oatmeal raisin bar things you like.” You pulled at his t-shirt and he took it off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love those…Murphy, off!!” The dog jumped off the bed and found a new spot to lay down. “Ehm…what else did you bring?” He took your top off and sucked on your shoulder, then he made his way down to your nipple.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, yes…that’s…yes….wait. What is this? Baked goods as foreplay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He waggled his eyebrows. “Absolutely!!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re never dull Mr. Byrne…I’ll give you that.”  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Paris</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for joining me on this journey. Stay safe.</p>
<p>As always, I do not know Hozier.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The European leg of the tour was moving at a rapid pace. Being based in Ireland made it easy for you pop over on the weekends to see Andrew. Sometimes you did a little sight-seeing together or if he was busy with work, you would tag along with different members of the band. Yesterday you landed in Paris early and went shopping with the women of the tour. Today, Andrew took you to the Louvre where a docent shuttled you around to see the best works. After your world-wind art tour, you tucked into a bistro for a late lunch. The restaurant was recommended by your guide who praised the cuisine and the cozy atmosphere. It was a small, neighborhood-type place in the shadow of the Eifel Tower. The walls were covered with art and if your basic French to English translation was correct, they were done by young, local artists. The host seated you in a curved, corner booth with a leather bench-seat that was worn smooth like an old baseball glove. It felt good to sit after hours of walking. Andrew unwound his ridiculously long scarf from around his neck and shrugged off his outermost layer of clothes. His hair was tucked up in a knit hat and he was wearing new, round glasses. It was autumn and dreary in Paris. And although it wasn’t incredibly cold, there was a rawness that settled into the bones. You perused the menu while Andrew ordered a bottle of wine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, do you know what you want to eat?” Andrew was rubbing his hands together to warm them up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The docent, Marie, warned you that the entrees were huge and she recommended splitting a meal. “Well, Marie said the steak frites is to die for. Maybe we should try that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That sounds perfect and better yet, I can say it in French.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Better your French than mine! Oh and maybe a frisée salad too?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The waiter returned with the wine. He opened the bottle and filled your glasses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Merci.” Andrew ordered for the two of you in French. “Nous aimerions que les steak frites partagent…ehm..et une salade frisée. Merci beaucoup.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The waiter took your menus and disappeared.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nicely done, Babe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks. It seems that taking French in high school wasn’t wasted after all. Slainte.” You clinked your wineglasses and sipped. “Ehm…so what was your favorite piece today at the museum?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh…that’s a tough one. Definitely not the Mona Lisa. Sorry Leonardo!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s lovely, just not my favorite.” You took a sip of wine while pondering your choice. “I really loved Winged Victory. Even with all the missing pieces, I had such a visceral reaction to her. She’s so dynamic, so strong.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew raised his glass. “To Winged Victory.” You clinked glasses and sipped the wine. “This is going to be perfect with the steak.” He seemed pleased with his choice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, what was your favorite piece?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew leaned back and crossed his arms. “If I have to pick just one….Canova’s Cupid and Psyche. Utterly gorgeous.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A very romantic choice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He blushed and smiled at you. “I think I have developed a penchant for Italian sculpture.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My evil plan is working!” You both laughed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The food arrived. The kitchen split your steak onto two plates and gave you each a marrowbone on the side. There was a silver platter loaded with frites and the frisée salad was piled so high, it resembled a modern sculpture with its frilly, delicate leaves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew’s eyes went wide. “This is an outrageous amount of food! Not that I am complaining.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s a good thing we listened to Marie. This looks yummy. The French certainly know what they are doing.” You tucked into your food and it was good to see Andrew eating with gusto. For a while you didn’t speak and just enjoyed the delicious food, the warm atmosphere and the company of each other. Being in a relationship with a touring musician taught you to enjoy every moment and every minute.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Honey, can I ask you a question? About the show?” Andrew popped a fry into his mouth. His expression was one of pure bliss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, what is it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was focused on cutting his steak. “Ehm…what do you think of the new lights? It’s a bigger package for the larger venues. Is it too much?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You swallowed your bite of food. “Do you mean is it overwhelming the music?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah…ehm…what am I supposed to do with this?” He was pointing at the marrow bone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See the toasted bread? Spread the marrow on it. It’s ridiculously good. Here.” You started slathering the bread with the unctuous substance. “I think everything is in perfect balance; Stephen is a genius.” You handed him the bread. “And I love the digital art that you have included. It really adds another dimension to the show…how is the marrow?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Luscious…it can’t possibly be good for me.” He finished the piece you gave him and took a swig from his glass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My Italian relatives all eat it, they say it is good for the joints and bones.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He smiled. “I should ask my mom if the old Irish folk eat it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You laughed. “I thought <em>you </em>were the old Irish folk!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He jammed his tongue into his cheek and shook his head. “Very funny. Is this because of my command of technology?” He refilled your wineglass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Command?” You took another bite of salad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nevermind.” His eyes were twinkling. “I’m so glad you like the show. It’s hard when you’re in the middle of it to get a sense of it all. Ehm…is there anything that we should change or  improve on?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No…well.” There was something that you would like to change, but you couldn’t decide if you should bring it up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew’s fame had been a concern for you. When you first met him, you were a bit you starstruck by his talent, but Hozier and Andrew are two very different beings. Andrew is sweet, shy and cerebral and you found you had a lot in common. It also helped that he valued privacy as much as you, but it is not always easy to be involved with someone that everyone feels they know and <em>love</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew broke you from your thoughts. “Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I feel a little silly, but in the spirit of honesty...” You chewed on your lip. “Ok, I’m not comfortable when you go into the audience…during church. There are pictures on your social media from the shows. People with their hands all over you and some of it seems really invasive and inappropriate. I can’t help that it bothers me. And honestly, it seems unfair that I can’t touch you, but they can. I understand if you can’t change it, but that’s how I feel.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His face broke into a brilliant smile. “I’m not a fan of that either. It’s just one of those performative things that I did last tour. Did it bother you then?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, but we were just dating and I was drunk on love.” You winked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m going to take it out.” He ate the last fry on his plate. “Besides, I’m pretty convinced that I caught a cold from doing that.” He placed his hand on your knee and squeezed. “Ehm…I’m glad you told me. I wouldn’t like it either.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The waiter came and cleared your dishes and Andrew ordered a pot of tea. The bistro was half full at this point in the day. There were a couple of tables with tourists and others with locals reading the paper or sipping wine. It was a pleasure listening to people speaking in other languages. You heard French, English and Dutch. It was like a scene from a novel. Your server returned with the teapot, two cups and honey and lemon on the side. Andrew played mother and poured for the two of you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, how was your shopping expedition yesterday with the ladies?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was quite the adventure. There was a lot of window shopping and chocolate sampling involved.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His whole face lit up. “Yeah? That’s grand. Please tell me you bought chocolate!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I did. I tried to give you some last night!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, I was interested in something else altogether.” He quirked an eyebrow and took a sip of the tea.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I remember.” You could feel yourself blushing. “I did get a few things, some Christmas gifts for you, Sam and Emily.” Your brother and sister-in-law were coming for Christmas and you couldn’t wait to see them both.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That reminds me. Sam called me earlier this week.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? Is everything ok?” You started to panic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He covered your hand with his and squeezed. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then why did he call you?” You let out a breath. “Sorry, it’s just not like him. He’s not like Jon.” When you first met Jon, the two of you clicked immediately. He seemed like a long-lost friend and the conversation between you flowed freely. Once you started dating Andrew, he treated you like a sister and the two of you have become extremely close since you moved to Ireland. Sam, however, has always been the protective older brother. He likes Andrew, but considering your history, he casts a weary eye on anyone you’re involved with.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He wanted to talk to me about…well, you and me. Ehm…he wanted to know why I hadn’t proposed to you yet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It took a moment for it to sink in. “Oh.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew tipped his head. “He seems to think that I have cold feet.” His expression was tender and his voice was soft.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sam asked me about it when we were with Dad, in the hospital.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ok.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He said you had already talked to Dad and he assumed that you were holding things up. Things were…things were rocky between us and I thought maybe you were second guessing the whole relationship.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew furrowed his brows and nodded his head. “We were definitely struggling then, but I have never once wanted to end things.” He moved closer to you in the booth. “Does Sam know that you were the one that wanted to wait? In the beginning, I mean.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was true that you asked to go slow. Move to Ireland and get settled first, then you could move on to an engagement. This was a big step for any relationship, but for someone with your past experiences, it was monumental. You needed to move slowly. “No. I never told him that and we certainly didn’t discuss it when Dad was sick.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, of course. It wasn’t a good time for that, to be sure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm…I have the distinct feeling that your brother hates me and thinks I am an eejit.” He gave you a soft smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry. He is so overprotective sometimes…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew interrupted you. “He has every reason to be and I don’t mind. Not at all. But I did tell him that it was a private thing. Just between us.” He took your hand between his and gently rubbed circles on your skin. “Ehm…can we talk about it now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew focused his eyes on your hand. “Are you still apprehensive?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. I feel like we are in a much better place now than we were earlier this year. What about you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He met your gaze then. “No, no apprehension at all. We <em>are</em> in a much better place.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It felt so good to be in this place in your relationship. Where you could discuss anything and if there was a problem, you would figure it out together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Andrew, thank you for being patient with me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He kissed you and gazed into your eyes. His look told you everything you needed to know. “Let’s get the check. I am pretty sure it is time for a nap!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See? That’s why I think of you as the old Irish folk. Always napping and no handle on technology.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two of you headed back to the hotel. The sky was grey and the leaves were brown, but to you it felt like spring when anything is possible and beautiful things are about to emerge at any moment.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. The Cold Season</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading my story. As always, I do not know Hozier. I do accept comments. </p><p>Stay well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Growing up in New England, you were used to four seasons: winter, mud season, summer and fall. In your opinion, fall was the best season with it’s crisp weather and vividly colored leaves. Thankfully, once you were tired of one season, the next arrived. Winter’s snow and ice gave way to sunny days and warming trends. The changes in weather and light helped you track the time, but Ireland was different. The climate was pretty much the same all the time. Sure, there were slight differences in temperature and light, but they were too subtle to register with you. Now, you marked time by trips to the tour and facetime calls. Today was no different, another day, another video date with your love. No matter how often you did this, your heart did a little somersault every time he appeared on your computer screen.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey…ehm…where are you?” Andrew leaned towards his screen and furrowed his brows. “Are you…are you in my old bedroom?”</p><p> </p><p>You started to laugh, but it quickly changed into a deep cough. “Yes. Excuse me.” You turned away from the screen to cough.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew’s whole body sagged. “Oh Honey, you’re sick!”</p><p> </p><p>You grabbed your mug and sipped your tea. “Yes, I’m afraid I picked up your mother’s cold.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mom’s sick?”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s was. She’s fine now. The doctor gave her an inhaler which helped tremendously.”</p><p> </p><p>“And now you’re sick, have you been taking care of her?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, just for a couple of days. Jon’s on a shoot and your dad was feeling a little overwhelmed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honey…you’re too kind. Thank you so, so much.”</p><p> </p><p>You blew your nose. “You’re welcome. I love your parents, you know that.”</p><p> </p><p>“They love you, but why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your mom told me not to say anything.” You unwrapped a cough drop and popped it into your mouth. The lemon flavor was so tart, your whole mouth puckered.</p><p> </p><p>“Someone should have said something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Andrew, have you met your mother?”</p><p> </p><p>He wrapped his arms around himself and tipped his head. “Point taken. Where is she now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Making me chicken noodle soup.” You took the throw blanket off the end of the bed and draped it over your shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s class stuff, it will set you right. How are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“Awful. I have a sinus infection now, my head feels like a block of cement, but I’ll survive. Everyone at work is sick, then Mom…I guess it was my turn.”</p><p> </p><p>He made a sympathetic face. “I feel terrible…first you take care of me on tour, then my parents. Please, at least tell me Murphy is keeping an eye on you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. He isn’t! He’s too busy ingratiating himself to your mom.”</p><p> </p><p>“Trying to get some of that roast chicken!” He started laughing.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but actually he has been really good. He’s been fretting over everyone in the house. I think he’s a little worn out.” You blew your nose again.</p><p> </p><p>“You should start a canine therapy program; he would be your star worker.” Andrew’s smile faded and he studied your face through the screen. “Honey, do you have a fever?”</p><p> </p><p>“I did earlier, now I’m just cold.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was rubbing his collarbone vigorously. “Oh my love, I wish I was there.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, but we’re ok. Jon’s coming to take over and I took tomorrow off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is there anything I can do? What do you need?”</p><p> </p><p>“Baby, we’re fine. We have a house full of food and the pharmacy delivered our prescriptions. We just need to rest. Your mom is in charge now and I am going to eat her soup and pass out in your old bed.” You smiled at him. “By the way, I love your old Mario Brothers sheets!”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your Mario Brothers bedsheets…very cute.” You grabbed one of the pillows and held it up to the screen.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was cherry red with embarrassment. “Ehm…I didn’t think mom still had those.”</p><p> </p><p>“I found them on the bottom shelf of the linen closet. I couldn’t resist putting them on your bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“What else is in that closet?”</p><p> </p><p>You were clutching your mug, hoping the heat from the tea would warm you up. “I found a Pokémon blanket.” Andrew made a horrified face. “And Ninja Turtle sheets!”</p><p> </p><p>He started laughing. “No! No!! You’re lying. I never had Ninja Turtle sheets, though that would have been nice.” His eyes were twinkling and his smile was brilliant.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, I made that up, but the Pokémon blanket is real. By the way, I plan on checking all of the closets!!” You loved teasing him, anything to see that gorgeous smile. “And then, maybe I’ll go through your desk drawers, it will be quite the treasure hunt.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew shook his head. “Sadly for you, I cleaned that desk out years ago. Thank God!” He looked skyward. The two of you had a good chuckle. “Thanks for making me laugh.” He let out a breath. “I hate that you’re all sick.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, but we’re taking care of each other and Christmas break is coming.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…about that, I wanted to talk to you.”</p><p> </p><p>You froze. “Don’t tell me you’re not coming home for Christmas.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? No! I wouldn’t miss it! Christ!”</p><p> </p><p>You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you missed him desperately. You were literally counting the days until you saw him. “Thank goodness.”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, I was hoping to steal you away for a few days.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely. I thought maybe we could meet up at the end of the tour…in Rome.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I can’t think of anything I would like better, but I am not sure if I can. I already took time off for the holidays and now I had to take some sick days.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was pensive. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater down over his arms. “Ehm, can you look into it? It’s ok if you can’t get away. You have visited me so much…I really appreciate it. I know it’s tiring. But it would be so nice to have time alone…before everyone comes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” You phone chimed with a message. You picked it up, read it and started laughing.</p><p> </p><p>He arched an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your mom! She just texted from the kitchen to tell me the soup is ready!”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew was confused. “Why is that so funny?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh babe. It’s funny to me because she has better tech skills than you!”</p><p> </p><p>“Clearly, you are delirious with fever. Best go eat that soup.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok. Let me see what I can do about the trip.” He looked lonely in his hotel room. You wished he could come to kitchen with you, eat his mom’s soup and pet Murphy. “I miss you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Honey…you have no idea…” He put his hand over his heart and winked. Then he was gone from your screen.</p><p> </p><p>Two days later you texted him from work.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I got the time off. Send me the tickets</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>To be continued.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. The Eternal City</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lots of sweet sexiness.</p>
<p>As always, I do not know Hozier, but I have experience with Italian nuns.</p>
<p>Be safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The trip to Rome came quickly. Andrew finished the European leg of the tour and was taking the train down from Milan. You were flying in from Dublin and you were going to meet at the hotel. Andrew was able to get the same suite you stayed in the first time you traveled to Rome together.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You were only two steps through the door before his lips were on yours. It had been five weeks since you had seen other and it seemed like an eternity. You almost forgot how tall he really is or how large his hands are, their strong grip maneuvering you across the room and onto the bed. His breath was minty and sweet; voice low and husky with need. “Christ, I missed you.” His hair was pulled back; you took it out of it’s tie and ran your hands through his luscious curls. He quickly relieved you of your clothes and soon he was mapping your body with his mouth. A nibble of teeth here…a soft kiss there, he worked his way up your body. Then he swirled his hot, wet tongue around your nipple which drove you mad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He rolled over and you slid on top of him, attacking the long, white column of his neck. The bristles of his beard prickled your skin so you descended into the soft, supple hairs of his chest that peeked out of his shirt. “Baby, take it off. Let’s take it all off.” Andrew started stripping his shirt off and you took care of his pants. You almost toppled off the bed in the process, but he caught you just in time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You gave a nervous laugh. “Maybe we should slow down.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was punch-drunk with desire; his hair formed an unruly halo around his head and his lips were swollen and pink. “Is that what you want?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You smiled. “No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pulled you down on top of his naked body. His skin was dotted with gooseflesh and he was more than ready. “I want to touch you...please.” He slid his warm, soft hand between your legs and caressed lightly at first. Then he increased the intensity. “Give me your mouth…” First he grazed your lips with his, but then he sucked on your lower lip and nipped you with his teeth. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and explored; he groaned in response. He stroked and teased you until you were begging for relief.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Baby, please, I need you inside of me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He let out a sound that was barely human; then he rolled you underneath him. Sweet relief came when he joined his body with yours. And no matter how many times you did this, no matter how you did this, that first moment was always the same. It felt like coming home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You moved against each other; each trying find your pleasure. He rolled into you with rhythmic ferocity and you grabbed on to his forearms for purchase. There were no thoughts, no words, just this intense, fiery moment between you and it made feel feral and alive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He breathed in your ear and whispered your name over and over again. It wasn’t long before you went over the edge and into an abyss of pleasure. He followed and you clung onto him, not wanting it to end.</p>
<p>  </p>
<p>After, you laid side by side on the bed, sweat-slick and breathless. Andrew started to laugh. “Ehm…welcome to Rome.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>St. Cecilia’s is in the Trastevere section of Rome. It’s a beautiful church and like most buildings here in the ancient city, it has centuries of art and design layered over it. There is a small courtyard with a very large water urn and the entrance of the church has a 13<sup>th</sup> century mural of the last supper painted by Cavallini. In the 16<sup>th</sup> century, the Benedictine nuns were put in charge of the basilica. They live in the attached convent and still run the church today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You and Andrew were crossing the Tiber on one of its many bridges. The sun was bright and it was cool and crisp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tell me again why we are going to this church?” Andrew was a little grumpy about this particular trip. He wanted to stay in bed all day, but you needed to get some fresh air and a little exercise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“St. Cecilia is the patron saint of musicians. I like to go and make a donation when I can.” You slipped your arm through his. “We’ll be quick; then we can get a late lunch.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stopped walking and looked at you. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to go back to the room? The bed is probably still warm and we can order room service.” He had his gray beanie on and it accentuated his long, angular features.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Andrew!” You lowered your voice. “We’ve been in bed since yesterday…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please…seriously, you’ve already taken me church…many times!” You rolled your eyes and he arched his brow. “Ehm, I have shown great restraint…this is the first time I have ever made that joke.” You walked a little faster and left him behind, but two strides of those long legs and he was in front of you; he cradled your face in his hands. “I just want to be alone with you, in bed…without our clothes on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite how sexy and charming he was, you were growing a little frustrated with him. “Andrew, St. Cecilia was my mother’s favorite saint and she loved this church. I haven’t been back in years…I just want to light a candle and sit for a little while. If you want to go back and take nap, go ahead. It’s fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He dropped his head and made a pained expression. “I’m sorry. I’m being an arse. Of course, I’ll go with you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You walked the rest of the way in silence. The streets were filled with people. Stores were decorated for the Christmas season and everyone was especially cheerful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here it is, on the left.” You made your way through the courtyard; there was no one there and it was pleasantly quiet. When you finally made your way into the nave of the church it was surprisingly bright. The walls and ceiling are painted white with gilded accents. Along the top of the nave are arched windows that let in the sunlight and illuminate the space. Everything sparkled in the light.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew stopped at the back of the church, taking it all in. You went over to the small donation box and slipped your envelope inside.<br/><br/></p>
<p>“I’m going to light a candle and say a prayer. I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ok.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You went down to the altar and genuflected. Your parents were Catholic and they raised you in the faith, but over the years your religious devotion faded. God wasn’t the issue; the very flawed men running the church were. Despite that, there was a comfort and a connection in the rituals. So, you said your prayers and lit candles, but it was more a way to connect with those you lost than actual religious practice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When you finished with your prayers, Andrew came up behind you and whispered. “Is that her, Cecilia?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.” Under the high altar is a statue of St. Cecilia carved in white marble. Her body is prone with her head twisted underneath. “She was martyred in the third century, but when they found her body in the 16<sup>th</sup> century, it was uncorrupted and in this position.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Ehm, how did she die?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ax to the neck.” You started to leave the church when he stopped you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can we sit for a minute?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course.” You went and sat in the last row of chairs. Andrew was pointing to one of the many frescoes when suddenly, one of the side doors opened and a young, stout nun appeared. On her left shoulder was a large tote bag and she had a stack of books under her right arm. Andrew followed her with his gaze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You muttered under your breath. “You’re in trouble now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He suppressed a laugh and bumped your knee with his. The nun walked over to left wall of the nave. She set her bag on the floor and placed her books on the bench-seat of the organ. Then she opened the cover of the keyboard and started pushing buttons and turning on switches.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew looked at you, eyebrows raised and whispered. “The wee nun is going to play something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two of you sat quietly and waited. She placed a book on the music stand, found the correct page and started playing a Bach Prelude and Fugue. Her small hands moved quickly and lightly over the keys. When she came to a passage that troubled her, she stopped and repeated it until she got it right. After the Bach, came a new piece; it was exquisite.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew leaned over. “Do you know what this is?”   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure it is Saint-Saens.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her hands raced up and down the keyboard and her feet worked as rapidly, playing the bass line with the foot pedals. It was amazing to watch. She played six or seven pieces before finishing with a Mozart overture. After the last note rang out, she packed up her things, closed up the organ and disappeared through another door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, did that just happen?” He was grinning from ear to ear. “What a sweet surprise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think Cecilia approves.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you.” He took hold of your hand. “I’m so glad I didn’t miss this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me too. Lunch?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes. Definitely.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As you left the church, you saw Andrew place some money in the donation box. He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Just in case.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You had a late lunch near the Pantheon and then a quick nap back at the hotel. Andrew wanted to watch the sunset at the Giardino degli Aranci atop the Aventine Hill. You took a taxi to get there so you wouldn’t miss it. The garden is built on top of an ancient fortress and is filled with bitter orange trees. It offers panoramic views of the city with plenty of places to stand or watch the action. Unfortunately, you missed most of the spectacular sunset because Andrew couldn’t decide on the perfect spot. He was being indecisive and fussy and rather than pick a fight, you went along with it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After the sun set, the temperature dropped considerably and the wind picked up. Andrew was standing behind you; he wrapped you inside his coat and the warmth of his body hit you immediately. “Ehm, sorry. I know we missed it…I’m just…out of sorts.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You turned around and nestled against him. “It’s ok. Why don’t we go down to the Christmas market? We can get some food and chocolate.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>During the holiday season, Christmas markets pop up all over the city. There are vendors of all sorts. You can eat, drink, shop and be entertained all in one piazza. Rome festoons the city with lights, trees and other decorations. Everyone is in the spirit and it permeates the eternal city.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm…what exactly does a witch have to do with Christmas?” Andrew was eyeing the dozens of dolls that were displayed in the booth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not just a witch, <em>that</em> is La Befana.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“La what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“La Befana! She goes around on her broom on Epiphany eve delivering presents.” You took one down from the hook.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew tilted his head. “Ehm, sounds like a pagan Santa Claus.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pretty much. She’s very popular in Italy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He took the doll from you and motioned to the salesperson. “I assume we are buying this for the house?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, thank you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The salesman came over and Andrew spoke to him. “Quanto costa?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dieci.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew nodded. He pulled his wallet out and found the correct change. “Dieci…grazie.” He handed the man the money and took the bag from him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Buon Natale ragazzi!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Buon Natale!” You replied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew carried the bag in one hand and held your hand with the other. He rubbed your palm with his thumb. The two of you perused the different stalls and shops. You stopped for Roman pizza which is sold by weight and drank cold beers from a little bodega. Then you went into a sweets shop and bought Gianduja candies and torrone. The streets were filled and the smell of chestnuts roasting permeated the air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We should buy an ornament for the tree?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, sorry?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You pulled him aside. “Andrew, are you ok? You seem…distracted. Is everything alright?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m grand. Just…I’m fine. Now what did you want to get?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“An ornament for our tree.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He kissed the top of your head. “That’s a brilliant idea.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It took a while to find the perfect one, but you did it. The ornament was blown glass and painted with a scene of the colosseum. The salesperson boxed it carefully for you so it would get back to Ireland safely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You meandered your way back to the hotel, stopping along the way for treats and gift-shopping. By the time you got back to the hotel, your legs and feet were sore. So, you took a long soak in the tub; the hot water was a welcome remedy to your aches and pains. Andrew had given you a pair of silk, men’s-style pajamas he bought in Paris. You put them on and piled your hair into a messy bun. Now all you needed was a nightcap with your Irishman. When you came out of the bathroom, Andrew was standing in the middle of the room still fully clothed. He had his arms wrapped around him for protection and he was rubbing his collar bone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Andrew, what’s going on?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m an eejit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have been wandering around all night trying to…” He bit at his lip and considered what he was about to say. “I have been trying to propose to you, but I just couldn’t get the nerve up.” He looked crushed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you afraid to ask? Or did you change your mind?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, definitely afraid.” His shoulders dropped and he shook his head. “I don’t want to mess it up. And I wanted it to be dramatic and special and…ehm, memorable.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Your heart swelled at his sweetness. He was rubbing his collarbone so vigorously, you worried he was going to hurt himself. So, you closed the space between you and took hold of his hands. “Andrew.” You looked into his lovely green eyes and smiled. “I have had more than enough drama for one lifetime. All I want is to be with you and to live the happy, peaceful life we have built together.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He kissed the top of your head. “But Honey, you deserve a special moment…a magical moment.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh Andrew, it doesn’t matter where you ask me.” You placed your hand on his chest, over his heart. “It’s going to be very special to me because it’s you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, so would it be ok if I ask you here?” He was dubious.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You looked around the hotel suite. “Honestly, it’s the perfect setting. We’re in Rome and it’s very private.” He laughed. “And truthfully, we have spent more time together in hotel rooms than anywhere else.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He let out a breath and smiled. “That’s true. Ehm, ok. Hold on. Stay there.” He went over to his suitcase and took a small box out of the side pocket. Your heart started to pound in your chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew turned around and got down on one knee. Then he opened the box and held it up to you. His hands were shaking and his cheeks were red. “My love, you are my best friend…the queen of my heart. All that I have, all that I am is yours. Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Your throat was thick with emotion, your eyes welled with tears. “Oh Andrew, of course I will! Yes, yes!!” He carefully placed the ring on your finger. It was stunning. “It’s gorgeous, thank you!” You leapt into his arms and completely knocked him over. “Sorry! Are you ok?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You were in a heap on the floor, tangled up in his long limbs. Andrew started laughing riotously. “That’s my favorite sound.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sat up and pulled you into his lap. “Sorry. What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your laugh is my favorite sound.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He kissed you. “Do you really like it, the ring?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You took a good look at it. It was a gorgeous cushion cut diamond in an art deco setting, surrounded with a halo of emeralds and a carved band. The size of the stone was perfect, not too big for your small hand; beautiful but not ostentatious.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Andrew, it’s magnificent.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, good. I had it made. The diamond is an antique and the emeralds…ehm, the emeralds belonged to your mother.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You had no idea what he was talking about. “My mother? Her birthstone <em>is</em> emerald, but I have never seen these before.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He took hold of your hand. “I know. When I talked to father about proposing to you, he told me about the stones. Apparently, they came from a ring your grandmother wore. Your mother put them away for you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You were stunned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know that it’s not your birthstone, but I thought you would like them included in the ring.” He looked concerned that perhaps he made a mistake. “If there is anything you don’t like, we can change it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s perfect. You are so thoughtful and my parents…” You were completely overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you.” You kissed him and he held you tight. It felt wonderful. “Andrew, did you really ask my father for my hand?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tilted his head. “No, that’s awfully antiquated and patriarchal. I asked for his blessing…and we had a lovely conversation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When was this?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Before you moved to Ireland. I snuck in a quick visit with him. He really was wonderful.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You couldn’t speak.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew kissed your head. “Ehm, should we make a toast?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Prosecco?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, Irish whiskey. After all Mr. Byrne, I’m going to be an Irishman’s wife!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. Christmas Follies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading. As always, I do not know Hozier.</p>
<p>Be safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Let me see it again!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You held your left hand up in front of the camera on your laptop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my goodness. He really hit it out of the park! It’s gorgeous…and the emeralds…” Rachel clasped her hand over her mouth and shook her head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t start crying again. Don’t do it Rach…I am not redoing my eye makeup!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll stop. I promise…they’re happy tears, but I will stop.” Rachel swiped at her face with a tissue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You were facetiming with her and sharing your good news. And despite your best efforts, you were crying again too. “The best part was when I knocked him over onto the ground!” You started laughing at the memory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re like a gazelle or a drowning swan!” Rachel was laughing too. “Oh my goodness, you two nerds were made for each other.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, it’s all your fault, you know! You’re the one who introduced us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She raised her hand. “Guilty as charged.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew came into the kitchen carrying his mug. He was followed by Murphy who refused to let him out of his sight. “Speak of the devil…Andrew, come say hi to Rachel.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He came over to where you were sitting at the island. “Hey Rachel! How are you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Andy!!! Congratulations. She’s the best, you know that!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do. I really do…thank you.” He slid his arm around you and squeezed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And the ring is absolutely gorgeous. Nice job, my friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At that he blushed. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to seeing you in New York.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me too. Can you make her come over for a visit?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You interrupted her. “I’m sorry Rach, I really am out of vacation time for a while.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm…I’m gonna let you two finish your call. See you soon Rach!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bye Andy!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew went over to the corner of the kitchen and started the electric kettle. He put another tea bag into his mug along with the two old ones. You were never going to understand his methods.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rachel sipped from her coffee; it was early in the morning for her. “So, who have you told?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No one yet, you’re the first!” You looked over at Andrew who was leaning against the counter, smiling at you. “We’re going to tell everyone: Andrew’s family and Sam and Emily, at Christmas eve dinner.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The kettle was steaming; Andrew poured the hot water into the mug. Then he winked at you and disappeared into his studio with Murphy in tow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love it. Everyone is going to be very happy for you two.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hope so Rach.” You lowered your voice. “I’m a little worried about Sam’s reaction.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait a minute…he likes Andrew or did I miss something?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He does, but…a few months ago he called Andrew and wanted to know why he hadn’t proposed yet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rachel sat straight up. “What? That’s much, even for Sam.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tell me about it. And the truth is, I was the one holding things up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did Andy say?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He told Sam it was a private matter.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rachel shook her head. “Bless Andy, he’s always so diplomatic.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You looked in the direction of the studio. “He is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Listen, Sam loves you so very much. He’ll come around, especially when he sees how happy you are with Andy. It can’t be easy for him, letting go. You two have been through so much together.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam had been your rock through so much. You wanted his approval and to know that you are ok now. “I know, you’re right. Thank you Rachel.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, one last look at the goods and then I have to go!!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After finishing your call, you went to find your fiancée. He was in the studio, playing chords on his Gibson. You stuck your head through the doorway. “Are you working?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, not really. Just messing around. How’s Rachel?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You made your way over to him. “She’s very excited for us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew put the guitar on it’s stand and then he pulled you onto his lap. “So am I.” He kissed you. “My parents are going to be very, <em>very</em> happy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hope so.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew tilted his head. “I’m pretty sure they’d keep you and get rid of me!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re ridiculous.” You kissed his nose. “Are we going to get the tree today? We have a lot to do before everyone gets here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes. Let’s do it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a flurry of activity; lists were made, coffee was poured into travel mugs and then all three of you piled into the car. Andrew put on his favorite Christmas playlist; Murphy settled on his blanket in the backseat, grimy tennis ball clutched in his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Babe, do you know how to get there or should I look for directions?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew was turning the car out of the driveway and onto the main road. “Oh, I know where it is, but thanks.” He took a sip from his mug and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! Sorry, that’s my coffee.” You switched mugs with him. “Here, yours is black. I put a little Baileys in mine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm…a little!?” He started laughing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You drank your coffee. “Oh boy, I guess I got carried away. In my defense, it’s a tradition from New York, but I was riding the subway then, never driving.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You cut down trees in New York?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, no. I used to go Christmas caroling with friends and we always brought boozy beverages. It seemed appropriate for tree cutting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Next Christmas, we’ll call the car service, then we can both have boozy coffee...So, what’s the craic? Who’s arriving when?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You pulled out your phone and pulled up your brother’s itinerary. “Well, Sam is arriving tomorrow night. He’s been on a work trip and rather than fly back to the states he’s going to come straight here. Emily will come two days later; she’s taking the red eye.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can pick them up at the airport, if you want.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you. We can figure all of that out. There is food shopping that needs to be done…And someone needs to make a run to the liquor store.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, give me a list of things to do.” Andrew took hold of your hand and squeezed. “You’re wearing the ring on your right hand.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I switched it over. Just until the family knows.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, you better not wear it at all around our families before we announce it. My mother probably already senses a change in the force!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You giggled. “You’re right. Are you sure you don’t mind waiting until everyone is together?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He took a quick glance at you. “Of course not. It’ll be grand. Don’t worry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The tree farm was up on the right. Andrew eased the car into the parking lot and found a spot. It was filled with families and cars. Christmas music was playing over a loudspeaker and there was a little stand selling hot chocolate and tea. You got Murphy out of the car and clipped his leash onto his collar. His tail was wagging and he was whimpering. A little girl in the car next to you started calling for the “doggy.” She had red bows in her hair and brilliant blue eyes. Her beleaguered parents were trying to load two other children into the car who were covered with chocolate. The tree on their roof was almost as big as their sedan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ready?” Andrew took Murphy’s leash from you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes. Let’s find our tree.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You headed down to the gate where a young man approached you. He was incredibly tall and broad with bright copper hair. “Nollaig Shona Duit! Are you looking for a tree?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Merry Christmas. Yes, we are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Grand. So, we have pre-cut trees for sale or you can pick a tree in the field. Just take a ribbon and tie it on your choice. Someone will come by and cut it for you and get it to your car.” He handed you a blue ribbon. “Good luck!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you.” You put the ribbon in your coat pocket. Andrew took you by the hand and led you into the mini-forest. It smelled like Christmas with all the different evergreens. The Irish weather was misty and cool, but it did little to dampen your spirits. Andrew was wearing his long, tweed coat and a green scarf you bought for him in Dublin. His hair was tucked into a hat; luckily he wore his contacts otherwise the mist would have fogged over his glasses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, Honey…what type of tree would you like? They grow several varieties here.” He was examining a very tall, very thin specimen. The irony wasn’t lost on you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Type? Um…a green tree?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew stopped and looked at you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You were caught. “Babe…I have a confession to make.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A confession?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes. I think it’s only fair that you know the whole truth before we get married.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew arched a brow. “Ok. Go on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I grew up with a fake Christmas tree. I’ve never gone to a tree farm to cut down a tree. We pulled ours down from the attic and took it out of a box.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was stunned. “I don’t understand. Did we not do this together last year?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. I cooked with your Mom and you got the tree with Jon.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm…right. But honey, a fake tree? You think you know a person.” Murphy started barking. “I know Murph, we’ve been duped!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You threw your arms in the air. “I know. My mother hated the mess and my father would do anything to keep her happy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew grinned at you. “I understand the concept completely.” He furrowed his brows. “Ehm…does this mean you want a fake tree?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? No! I am so excited to do this, especially with you. I’m just…completely out of my depth.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, it’s grand! I know a lot about trees.” At that Murphy flopped down on the ground and groaned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why am I not surprised?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew did that thing with his tongue in his cheek. “Wow, everyone’s a critic!!” His eyes were twinkling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You wrapped your arms around him. “Ok, Mr. Byrne. I’m listening. Give me your full dissertation on evergreens.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He kissed the top of your head. “Well, they grow three types of fir trees here: noble, fraser and nordman. And did you know that fir trees are not native to Ireland? They also have several kinds of spruce!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew nattered on while you made way around the farm. There were trees of varying shapes and sizes. They all looked perfect to you, but Andrew saw a flaw in each one. Murphy dutifully followed along; he even made a few friends along the way. Finally, Andrew found the perfect tree.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm…what do you think of this one?” It was a beautiful nordman fir with a lovely shape and lots of full branches.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s beautiful. Is it the right size?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He measured it against his height. “It’s about six inches taller than me, so yeah. It will fit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You took the ribbon out from your pocket and tied it onto one of the branches. Andrew flagged down one of the workers who cut it down for you and helped you get it to your car. As you made your way to the parking lot, a beautiful, full rainbow appeared in the sky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Honey, look!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You stopped in your tracks. “Wow. It’s gorgeous! It’s like Ireland invented them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew smiled at you.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Picking, wrapping and tying the tree to the car were the easy parts. Getting the damn thing into the house was another. It was unbearably heavy and bulky, even with the tight netting. Add in a crazy canine who thought all of this merited excessive barking and it was your own version of a bad holiday movie. There was a confetti spray of needles all over the house and sap on the floors. Once you finally got it in the stand and into position, you found out you had to wait 24 hours to decorate it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm, ok…that’s grand. Now we wait.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You were confused. “Wait? My brother arrives tomorrow, I need to have this done before then.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah…about that…we have to wait.” He scratched at his head. “You really didn’t pay attention to this last time, did you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You gave him a withering look. “I was trying to impress your mother. Cut me some slack. So, what are we are waiting for?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ehm…the tree has to hydrate and the branches need time to settle back into place.” Half the tree limbs were jammed upwards from being tied up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You just stood there, looking at your wonky tree and the mess around it. “I’m beginning to see why my mother bought a fake tree.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Andrew wrapped you up in his arms. “Oh honey, it’ll be fine. We can decorate it with your brother.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You looked up at him. “This is your fault.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re behind schedule because you wanted to stay in Rome for a few extra days.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was smirking. “Ehm…I didn’t hear you complaining then.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You laid your head against his chest. “No, I guess not, but I want this to go well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He kissed the top of head and then he spoke into your hair. “It’s going to be grand. We’ll get it all done.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You were starting to panic a little. “I want everything to be perfect…it’s our first Christmas engaged…first Christmas without Dad…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, hey.” Andrew cradled your face with his hands. “I know this is going to be a difficult time for you and Sam. But I hope that it will be a joyful one too.” He kissed you. “And just remember that it doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s our family. They just want to be with us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You took a deep breath and let it out. He was right. “Thank you…for calming me down.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He took a step back from you. “So, what’s next? Groceries, wrapping presents, decorating?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You laughed. “All of the above!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>to be continued….</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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